BODYGUARD’S OBSESSION

MINK
 Bodyguard’s Obsession
MINK © 2021

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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing
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 CONTENTS

Bodyguard’s Obsession
Chapter 1
Cyrus
Chapter 2
Fiona
Chapter 3
Cyrus
Chapter 4
Fiona
Chapter 5
Cyrus
Chapter 6
Fiona
Chapter 7
Cyrus
Chapter 8
Fiona
Chapter 9
Cyrus
Chapter 10
Fiona
Chapter 11
Cyrus
Chapter 12
Fiona
Chapter 13
Cyrus
Chapter 14
Fiona
Chapter 15
Cyrus
Chapter 16
Fiona
Chapter 17
Cyrus
Chapter 18
Fiona
Chapter 19
Cyrus
Chapter 20
Fiona
Epilogue
Epilogue II
Also by MINK
About the Author
Bodyguard’s Obsession
MINK

Nothing surprises me anymore. At least nothing did … Until she fell into my
arms. Fiona is young, beautiful, and a superstar. It’s my job to protect her
from her crazy fans and one particularly dangerous stalker. It’s not my job to
watch every little move she makes, to hang on her every word, and to
imagine what it would be like to get a taste of her.
I tell myself to keep my distance and stay alert. It pays off when I save her
life. But it also wakes me up to the fact that she’s not safe on the Vegas stage.
So I seize the chance to take her for myself. . . For her safety, of course.
I bring her home, to the vineyard where I grew up. The problem is, home has
its own shadows, ones I’ve tried to outrun. But I’ll deal with them if it means
Fiona is safe.
But her stalker won’t give up, not until she’s his or dead. I won’t let that
happen, and I’ll do anything to protect Fiona, no matter the cost.
1
Cyrus

T he lights of Vegas don’t blind me. Not anymore. I’m used to the Strip, the
tourists, and all the fakeness this city thrives on. It’s part of my life here, and
I’ve been living it for years.
I walk into the casino, the flashing lights and tired waitresses with the perky
smiles failing to catch my eye. This town is full of sad souls, and I don’t want
to become one of them. I’m not a gambler, and I don’t want to make any sort
of real connections here. After all, in Vegas, nothing is real.
The pit boss eyes me as I stalk past. He knows better than to get in my way.
Security opens the backroom door for me, leading me into a hallway where
there are rooms upon rooms of people watching CCTV feeds, looking for
cheaters, and looking for thieves.
I don’t ask questions, don’t do anything except follow the black clad security
guard into the back elevator. I’ve already sized him up. Dropping him would
be easy. One simple blow to the knee he faintly favors. A big man, he
probably used to play ball. Or maybe an old gym injury. Either way, I’ve got
the drop on him if shit goes sideways.
The elevator rises, up and up until we’re on the top floor. Not the presidential
suite any asshole with enough money can buy. No, this is the real apex of the
casino operation several floors below.
I’m shown in, and I pull my gloves from my pocket, sliding the black leather
over my hands with ease. They’re broken in, worn. Sort of like me. I’m only
twenty-eight, but I feel like the past two years have aged me. Working for the
bad men who run this city can do that to a guy, I suppose.
The entryway is covered in gold and silver, mirrored and polished. Overdone.
Typical of Vegas. I stride through and sit down on one of the white sofas,
careful to keep my back to the window. No one’s sneaking up on me 40
floors up.
A housemaid who speaks zero English offers me an Evian. I take it, and she
hurries off. For a moment I worry if she’s been trafficked, but then I realize
there’s no way Frankie Robards would have her working in the open like that
if she was. He’s vicious, but he’s not stupid. And more than that, he’s a
fucking showoff. That’s why half the maid’s body is pumped full of silicone
that he paid for, I’m certain.
I shrug it off and take a drink of my water. He knows I don’t drink. Hell, I
don’t do anything except my fucking job. I have to. It pays bills that keep
Winston living a good life, so I’ll keep doing it. He deserves some peace. I
owe him peace.
“Mr. Blake, so nice to see you again.” Frankie walks in, a coked-out blonde
on his arm.
They sit across from me, and she paws at his robe.
“Later, Porsche. I have business.” He pushes her away, then wraps an arm
around her shoulder as she settles down.
I think she’s relieved.
Frankie is a balding fifty-something with bad hair plugs and unlimited
money. Porsche, twenty if she’s a day, probably feels lucky she managed to
latch on to such a young sugar daddy. Not that I judge. After all, I’m here to
get an assignment for dirty work. Bloody work. Work that requires gloves.
“Who?” I sit the Evian bottle on a glittery side table.
“Straight to business as always.” Frankie smiles, his silver tooth glinting.
I shrug. And wait.
“Well, I have something new for you this time. Not wet work.”
Interesting.
“That’s all I do.” I take out the Vegas trash. Back alley disagreements and
vendettas are often solved at the end of my gun, my fist, or my blade.
“Not anymore. This is something special. Something I need a man like you to
do.”
“Pay?” I ask.
“For this? Let’s triple your usual rate.”
Fuck. It must be some nasty, dangerous shit for that kind of money. I can’t
turn it down. Hell, it might be a way out. One big payday, and I can get my
ass back home to the vineyard. Invest in fresh vines and put solid footing
under Winston’s feet. Mine too.
“Give me the details.” I’m in. “Give me a name, and it’s done.”
He clears his throat. “It pays so well because it’s not a simple one and done,
Mr. Blake.”
“You know my rule.” I don’t hurt kids. Never will, don’t care what the offer
is.
He shakes his head. “No, nothing like that. I need you to protect an asset. A
very special one.”
Protection isn’t in my nature. I’m much better at destruction. But for triple
pay? Someone throw me a fucking shield.
“Okay, when do I start?” I slowly pull my gloves off, one finger at a time.
“Now.” Frankie stands. “She’s on her way up.”
“She?” I raise a brow.
“None other than the newest star of the Robards Stage. The entertainer who
will bring our casino back to the crème de la crème. The best in the
business!” He beams. Porsche plasters a big, toothy smile onto her face.
“An entertainer? That’s who you want me to protect?”
“Not just any entertainer. She’s—”
The penthouse elevator dings, and I stand and walk over to it. She’s got to be
some has-been pop star who’ll put asses in seats and money into the casino
coffers. Washed up and worn out. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll guard her for
however long I have to, get my pay, and be on my way.
When the elevator doors open, I school my features. But when I see her, her
brilliant blue eyes meet mine. Then she stumbles forward, her heel caught in
the elevator grate, and she falls like a graceless duck toward the hard marble
floor.
2
Fiona

My stomach drops as I realize I’m about to faceplant onto the floor. It won’t
be the first time, but it might be the most embarrassing. I suppose if I break
something, I might get a vacation. I shut my eyes, knowing the ground is
closing in on me fast. I try to brace for the impact, but it never comes.
Instead, two strong arms wrap around me, catching me easily.
How the heck did he move that quickly? He was across the room. He was the
reason I’d tripped to begin with. He caught me off guard. When the doors of
the elevator slid open and there stood the most handsome man I’d ever seen
in my life—kaboom. That’s saying a lot. I’ve been around men that have
been deemed the sexiest in the world. Yet they could never hold a candle to
him.
“Hi,” I get out as I stare up at him. He’s even more attractive close up. He
smells good too. Whatever he uses isn't overpowering. Most of the men in
this town tend to overdo the cologne. But not this handsome stranger.
He stares at me, not saying a word.
“Thank you. That would have left a mark.” I let out a small laugh, but he
doesn’t join me, making me feel awkward.
“See? You’re already protecting her,” Frankie says, strolling over to me. He
gives me an off feeling, but so far he’s kept his hands to himself. Though I
haven't been here long. “I knew you’d be perfect for the job.”
The handsome man slowly puts me back on my feet. He keeps his arm
wrapped around me as he makes sure I get my footing. I tilt my head to look
up at him. He towers over me, even in these four-inch heels. His dark hair is
cut short, adding to his appeal. But I must admit that his dark green eyes
entice me the most. They make me think about doing things with him that
I’ve never wanted to do with any man.
I wouldn’t call him classic sexy. A scar runs through his left eyebrow. It’s not
big, but it is noticeable. His nose looks like it’s been broken before. It does
nothing to take away from how handsome he is. If anything, it only adds to
his appeal. Not to mention he’s a big man. I’m small myself, but he’s got to
be three times my size. There is nothing ‘pretty boy’ about him.
“Got your footing?” he asks. His voice is deep and vibrates through my body.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. He lifts the brow that has the scar
in question.
“Yes,” I push out past my lips.
He swiftly lets me go, stepping back from me and taking his warmth with
him.
“You okay?” Frankie asks me.
I nod. He walks over to me, his hand going for my chin. I stiffen. So much
for him not touching me. The other man's hand snaps out, and he pulls me
away.
“Don’t touch.”
“I can fucking do whatever I want,” Frankie snaps.
“You want me to protect her, then we do it my way.” Wait. He’s the man
they were talking about earlier? The one that’s going to be protecting me
from now on? They said he’s the best. No one else would be able to keep me
safe like him. If his reaction skills are anything to go by, I suppose they are
right.
The two of them have a stare-off for a moment. I want to tell Frankie I don’t
want to be touched, especially by him, but he is my boss, and I’m under
contract.
“Fine.” Frankie folds his arms over his chest. “Fiona, this is Cyrus Blake. The
man I was telling you about.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” He releases his hold on my wrist.
“Wish I could say the same,” he mutters, running a hand down his face.
Ouch. He might be good at his job, but he obviously needs a lot of work on
his people skills. “You’re going to be a handful.”
“You already agreed.” Frankie frowns.
I want to tell Cyrus he can get lost, but fear keeps me standing here. If he can
really keep me safe, I might beg him to help me. I’m tired of worrying and
looking over my shoulder every day. I can deal with his judgment. I’ve been
doing it all my life. Still, why does this burn more than I’m used to?
“What happened to her last bodyguard? You had one, right?” I lick my
suddenly dry lips.
“I did. A few actually, but he kept getting by them. Last night he left roses in
my dressing room.” I’d felt a real sense of fear in that moment. I didn’t get a
wink of sleep last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about what my stalker had
written on the card inside.
“Who is he?”
“We don’t know.” Frankie answers for me. “The note that was attached to
them said Don’t make me put these on your grave.”
I shudder.
“How long has this been going on?” Cyrus looks to me for an answer this
time.
“I think about six months. It started a while before I got to Vegas.”
“You think?”
I shrug. “I get a lot of weird things sent to me, so it might have been going on
longer, but he’s gotten more aggressive. He signs his cards and letters all the
same. Your loving husband.” It’s such a strange thing, but I really do think
this guy thinks we’re married or something.
“Have you been married before?”
I swear there’s a little anger in his voice when he asks the question.
I shake my head.
“Engaged?” I keep shaking it.
It dawns on me then that this man has no idea who I am.
“I’m going to need a list of your exes.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, not sure where to start with that one. “Now? I
have to get ready in a few hours for my show tonight.”
“You’re performing tonight?” I notice a slight tic in his jaw.
“Of course she is! She has sold-out shows.” Frankie jumps in.
Of course I am. Frankie wouldn't want to lose out on the money. He hasn't
hired me a bodyguard because he truly cares about what happens to me. I’m
not sure anyone really does. It’s about what I can do for them. Or how much
money I can make for them. He’s protecting his investment. Nothing more.
“I’ll need the list of exes immediately. The sooner we find this person, the
sooner you won’t need me.”
I try not to flinch. “Okay,” I agree, wondering if he means real ones or fake
ones. I decide to just give him all of them.
3
Cyrus

She stands just ahead of me in the elevator, her pink dress hugging her
delectable body perfectly. A small girl, one that could blow over in a stiff
breeze, she still managed to feel warm and curvy in my arms. Soft in all the
right places.
I need to stop thinking about her like this. She’s a job. One that can get me
out of this hellish town. All I have to do is find her stalker and throttle the life
out of him. End of problem.
But as she tosses a lock of hair over her shoulder with a nervous sort of grace,
I wonder if that really will be the end of it. Because when I caught her, held
her close, I felt something that I’ve long avoided. Something I thought I’d
never have to worry about, especially not in this town full of phonies.
Not her, though. No. She’s the real thing. Every bit of her.
“You, um, you aren’t what I expected.”
I realize she’s been staring at me in the polished chrome reflection of the
elevator door. “I’m not?” Neither are you. She’s vibrant and beautiful, not
some washed up has-been with a coke habit and a need for money to keep it
going.
She smiles a little. “No. The last two guys were older. You don’t look that
much older than me.”
“Don’t worry. I’m good at my job.”
She looks down, demureness written all over her. “They said you’re the
best.”
The elevator opens, and we pass through a series of corridors and into the
backstage area behind the enormous auditorium. I keep my eyes open, my
body attuned to hers.
“You really don’t know who I am?” she asks.
“Sorry, I’m not really keeping up with the pop stars these days.”
She lets out a pure, high giggle. “These days? I’m pretty sure you’ve never
kept up with pop stars in your whole life. What, just Metallica and angry
yelling music for you, then?”
Anyone who so much as glances in her direction—I catalog them in my
mind. I’ll have a manifest of everyone on set and behind the scenes in no
time. Nobody is going to touch this girl while I’m around, and certainly not
some crazed fan who thinks he’s her husband. Just the thought of it sends a
jolt of hatred through me. That presumptuous motherfucker.
“Metallica? Sure.” I whip my head toward a loud bang, but it’s just some
roadies working with backstage scaffolding. From the looks of it, her show is
filled with glitter, glam, and ridiculous girlie things like giant stuffed animals
in fanciful designs.
“It’s a pandacorn.” She points to the largest one I can just see through the
side stage curtains. “Custom made for me by this sweet woman who started
the whole pandacorn craze a little while ago. Layla makes them by hand, and
it took her a month to make that one.”
I should be bored hearing about outrageously-sized stuffed animals, but I’m
not. Not when the words are flowing from Fiona’s lips with excitement and
wonder. She’s so pure, an innocent flower in this garden full of poisonous
thorns. Vegas isn’t her town, at least it shouldn’t be. But that’s not my
concern. I just need to do the job.
“You don’t like stuffies?” she asks.
“I can’t say I have much experience with them, but if you like them, then I
guess they’re all right.” I keep my head on a swivel, though my gaze stops on
her more than it should.
She smiles, her cheeks turning a light pink. Beautiful. How’d she end up here
in the old timers’ graveyard known as stage shows in Vegas? She should be
out there on tour and entertaining hormonal teens and their middle-aged
parents. There’s a story here. One I shouldn’t meddle in, but one I want to
know all the same.
“After the show, I’m going to need more background—”
A man comes charging up, a headset on as he speaks furiously into the
mouthpiece, then turns his volume up even higher when he sees Fiona.
“Where have you been? I needed you in makeup 15 minutes ago!”
I step up, cutting him off before he reaches my girl. Wait, not my girl. My
client.
He looks up at me with an exasperated glare. “Move. I’m the stage manager.”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are, you don’t approach Fiona like that.” I step
to him. “And you don’t talk to her in that tone, either. Understand? I want
you to address her as Miss—” I turn to her. “What’s your last name?”
Her light blue eyes are open wide, and she stutters out, “H-Herring.”
“Miss Herring from now on.” I return my glare to the stage manager and pull
my black gloves from my pocket.
“I beg your pardon! You can’t come here and …” His bluster drains away as
I pull on my gloves and flex my fingers. “You, ah, you …”
“Go on. Tell me what I can’t do.” I loom over him, and he suddenly seems to
realize he’s poked the fucking biggest, baddest bear in this shithole casino,
maybe even on the Strip, for that matter. I don’t have to say ‘I will fuck you
up.’ It’s already there, written on my face.
“Right, yes. You, um, you are so right.” He steps back. “Ah, Fion—err, Miss
Herring, they need you in makeup.”
“Right now or at her earliest convenience?” I ask, enjoying the flare of his
pupils with each menacing word from my mouth.
“Righ—I mean, at her earliest convenience, of course.” He swallows hard,
the sweat along his brow starting to roll down his temples. “When she’s
ready. Not, ah, not a second earlier. No rush. Not when she’s the star.”
“Better. Keep that same energy when it comes to her. I’d hate for there to be
some sort of accident backstage. One that could leave you maimed or”—I
shrug—“worse.”
He stammers as I pull off my gloves, then reach for Fiona’s hand. She slides
her small one into mine, and I lead her past the blowhard and to the dressing
room with the chipped golden star on the door.
“Home sweet home,” she murmurs and unlocks the door.
I’ll get a duplicate of that key, but for now, I need to continue scoping out her
surroundings. If this stalker asshole is good enough to get past the last guards,
he’s no slouch. I’d be a fool to underestimate my opponent, even if those
other guys can’t hold a candle to me.
“Okay, don’t judge me.” She looks at me over her shoulder.
Fuck, those big blue eyes could destroy a man like me.
“Judge you for what?” I gently pull her behind me and enter the room first.
Hitting the switch, I stop. “What the—”
Quick movement from my right catches my eye, and I fling myself forward
and pull a knife, ready to take down the threat.
“No!” Fiona screams. “Don’t hurt Kittypuff!”
4
Fiona

I rush past Cyrus to get to my fur baby and scoop him up into my arms. I
hold him close while kissing the top of his head. It doesn’t go unnoticed by
me that Cyrus and Kittypuff are having a stare-off.
“He can be a little possessive. I've raised him since he was a tiny kitten. I
found him in an alley, and he would only come up to me, no one else.” I
smile thinking about how easily Kittypuff had taken to me. He had no clue
who I was or what I could give him. “He picked me.”
“What happened to him?”
“I’m not sure. I think he might have been the runt of the litter, so his mama
left him. I bet one of the other kittens did this to his ear.” My poor little guy
only has one.
I scratch the spot on his head where his missing ear should be. He purrs
loudly, butting his head against my hand. I watch as Cyrus takes in the rest of
my dressing room. I’m a little embarrassed with all the stuffed animals and
piles of candy I keep around. I can live off candy for the most part.
“It looks like a florist shop in here.” He starts pulling cards off the flowers to
read them. I know he’s assessing every detail at this point.
“Are you ready?” My door starts to open.
Cyrus spins around.
“Makeup,” I blurt out quickly so that he doesn’t kill Becca. He is really
taking this seriously. He nods, shutting the door behind her. She chomps her
gum loudly.
“Aren't you Cyrus Blake?” she asks before blowing a huge bubble. I think
she’s trying to be sexy, but Cyrus seems unaffected by her attempt. She
continues walking until she reaches the area where I get ready. She sets her
makeup case down in front of the mirror. I climb into the chair, placing
Kittypuff on my lap.
“Yes. And your name?” he asks.
“Becca,” she answers.
“Your full name.”
“Becca James. What’s going on here?”
“He’s my bodyguard.”
“Ah, man. You got rid of the daddy duo? I wanted to get between them.” She
wiggles her eyebrows. “You’re not bad on the eyes, though, Cyrus.”
“We’re running behind.” I cut in on her flirting. A sudden spark of jealousy
hit me out of nowhere.
Cyrus gives her a no-nonsense look that has her getting to work on me.
Normally I think her flirting is over the top and funny. She’s actually cut off
a few men from hitting on me. Pretty sure she took them home, so I’m not
sure if she did it for me or herself. I find nothing amusing about her trying to
flirt with Cyrus, though. He’s mine.
I watch his every move in the mirror as Becca does my makeup. I may be
annoyed at her flirting with Cyrus, but I can’t deny what amazing work she
does. The woman is an artist with her makeup brushes. She makes me sparkle
as if I were a fairy. Cyrus continues to roam around the room, taking in every
last detail.
Kittypuff jumps down from my lap, getting curious about Cyrus. I don’t
blame him. I feel the exact same way. I want to know more about him. There
is something about him that’s holding all my attention. Kittypuff isn’t
hissing, which is a start. He’s particular, and he still gives poor Becca the evil
eye whenever she gets too close.
“Hair up or down today?” Becca asks.
“Down,” Cyrus says before I can answer her. His words take me by surprise.
Butterflies form in my belly at the thought of him wanting to see me with my
hair down. Especially since he had shown no interest in what Becca was
offering him earlier.
“I think I’ll wear it up tonight.” Our eyes lock in the mirror for a moment, but
I can’t hold his stare. I avert my gaze.
He did say I was going to be a handful. I’ve never been a handful in my
entire life. My life has always been controlled. My parents were the first ones
to do it. I ended up having to get emancipated from them when I was
seventeen, only to fall into the hands of my agent and manager. I’m not sure
who was the lesser of two evils. Moving to Vegas was the first time I pushed
back and did something I wanted to do.
I’ve been traveling and doing tours since I was thirteen. My life never feels
settled. I thought Vegas would be better for me. I can still perform but also
try to make some sort of home. That doesn't look like it will be happening
anytime soon with a stalker. I’d be scared to stay alone, even if I had top
notch security. Whoever this guy is, he doesn’t seem deterred by anything
we’ve done so far. He keeps getting into places he shouldn't. I don’t
understand how it’s possible.
“All of these are from men,” Cyrus' deep voice mumbles. I can’t quite make
out the look on his face.
“It’s like this every day. Everyone wants a piece of her,” Becca responds.
Cyrus’s face turns cold. Everyone but him wants a piece of me. I watch as he
pockets all the cards.
“No more flowers.”
“Why?” Not that I really care. They can stick them somewhere else for all I
care.
“Are you going to question me on everything?”
I shake my head no.
“Dick,” Becca mumbles under her breath. I bite the inside of my cheek.
“People can put whatever they want in them.” He pulls out a wire thing from
one of them, dropping it onto the floor before crushing it with his foot. Holy
crap. My stomach turns.
“They're just listening, right?” I ask, my stomach dropping. “There’s no
video?” That would be leaked everywhere.
“Only audio.”
I take a breath, trying to calm myself. “Well, I hope they enjoyed me talking
to Kittypuff.”
Becca steps back, having finished with my hair. I walk over to the clothes
rack and grab my first outfit. Becca cleans up her area.
“See you later,” she says before slipping out.
I step out of my heels and pull my dress over my head before tossing it on the
sofa.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Changing.” I drop my bra next and grab the pink one covered in diamonds. I
shimmy into the high waisted tight black pants before putting my heels back
on that match the bra.
“You just change in front of people?” His fists are clenched at his side.
“Yeah, I have to do it all the time for wardrobe changes.”
“Not anymore,” he responds.
“But…” A double knock sounds at the door before it swings open and Kenny
pops his head in.
“Show time.”
“No one said you could come in. You knock, and then wait for a fucking
response. She could have been naked.” Kenny’s eyes bounce between Cyrus
and me.
“I’m ready.”
Kenny nods and then takes a step back to hold the door open for me. “Are the
dancers ready too?”
“Yeah.” I move toward the door but stop when an arm wraps around my
waist, pulling me back.
“Get out,” he barks at Kenny. His tone is so deadly that Kenny hops to it
without question. Cyrus spins me around. I have to drop my head all the way
back to meet his gaze, but my eyes want to drop to his mouth. My heart starts
to pound with excitement.
“Keep your clothes on. Got it?”
I nod, my heart pounding. Every time this man touches me, I can’t help but
agree to whatever it is he asks of me.
I think that’s the first time any man has ever said that to me.
He releases his hold on me and steps back.
“Let’s go,” he orders.
That lonely feeling I always have hits me harder than normal for some
reason. I push it down and paste a smile onto my face, turning myself into the
girl everyone wants me to be before I stroll out of the room.
5
Cyrus

“Your full fucking name.” I glare down at Kenny, who stutters out, “Kenneth
Lee Carruthers.”
I add him to my list, then keep an eye on Fiona as she steps onto a small
round platform. The crowd is buzzing, ready to see her perform.
For a moment, I get the urge to grab her. Just fucking grab her and run
somewhere, take her like a fucking caveman and hide her away until she
realizes she’s not a doll for other people to put makeup and clothes on, to
paint how they want, to see every bit of her skin and make her dance for
them.
But then the music starts to build, and the showrunner appears in front of her.
Gerald is his name. I’ve collected a full roster of everyone working on this
show. Dollars to donuts, her stalker has insinuated himself into the
production somehow. I just have to find him. It’s like a fucked-up game of
Guess Who or Where’s Waldo at this point. But I’ll find him. I already have a
nice spot out in the desert in mind. Sandy, hot, and remote.
Gerald does a silent countdown, and Fiona’s platform begins to move upward
to the stage. She shoots me a look, one I can’t read. Not yet. But if I had to
guess, I’d say it was fear mixed with exhilaration. She’s a star, after all.
As she rises, I climb the stairs to stage level and stay hidden offstage right.
She pops up, her blond ponytail bouncing as she starts to sing, and the crowd
loses its fucking mind. That ponytail—I grit my teeth. She’s a brat, a little
sassy scrap of a thing that needs someone to redden her ass.
I roll my shoulders and remind myself I’m not the one. This is my work. I
need to protect her, find the asshole who’s threatening her, get paid, and go
back home.
Fiona is magnetic, her charisma in the high notes of her pitch-perfect voice
and the way she owns the stage. When she starts dancing, her body moving
like water, my mouth goes dry. She’s a goddess on the stage, and it’s no
wonder Frankie snapped her up when he had the chance. She’s gold.
“Not bad, eh?” Kenny stands next to me, his eyes on Fiona. “She’s really got
that certain something.”
I size him up. He’s got beady eyes and a particularly terrible taste for
Hawaiian shirts. When his tongue darts out to his lips as he watches my girl, I
fist my hands.
“Stop looking at her,” I growl loud enough to be heard over the music.
He turns to me. “What? I’m in charge of costume changes on this side of the
stage.” He gestures to a rack with two feathery outfits on it.
I do the math. Kenny is plenty close enough to Fiona’s dressing room and
other areas of her life that he could be the guy I’m after. And I don’t like the
way he’s looking at her. In fact, I find that I want to beat him into a fine pink
mist for just looking at her with lust in his eyes.
“If you don’t get the fuck away from me and keep your eyes to yourself, I’m
going to break your neck.” It’s not a threat. It’s a fact of what’s about to
happen to him if he doesn’t stop gawking at Fiona. And just the idea of him
looking at her naked during her outfit change has me pulling my black gloves
from my pocket.
He backs up a step. “But I have to—”
I follow him.
He finally realizes that the churning in his gut, the primal fear that’s making
his bladder weak—it’s because I’m perfectly willing to kill him right here,
right now. When it finally hits him, he turns and runs into the dark backstage
area.
Fiona’s voice falls away from the music as he disappears, and I turn to find
her right behind me.
“Where’s Kenny?” She starts pulling at her top. “I need to change.”
I grab her and cage her body between me and the curtain.
“What are you—”
“No one gets to see your skin. I meant what I said, siren.” I yank the nearest
dress from the rack.
“The other one with the feathers.” She strips, her body bare and warm and
dewy with sweat.
Fuck, the things I want to do to her. What I wouldn’t give to be able to drop
to my knees and inhale the scent of her cunt. Her hard nipples are right there,
almost brushing against me. I could steal a lick. Just a taste. But I won’t. I
can’t.
She looks up at me, her cheeks red from exertion or something else. “Cyrus?”
Her voice is breathier now, a little husky, and I wonder if I reached between
her thighs would I find her wet for me? My cock is already straining against
my pants, but the thought of her pussy slick with need sends it to a new level
of hard. Fuck, I’m losing my mind, and I just met this girl. And she’s a job.
Just a job. I repeat that to myself on infinite loop. My cock isn’t listening,
though.
“Here.” I wrap the strapless feathery thing around her body.
She turns and reaches up to pull the end of her ponytail out of my way. Why
is that one of the sexiest movements a woman can make? Simply lifting her
hair? Because when she does it, need starts to ride me like a fucking jockey
from hell.
“It’s Velcro. Makes it easy,” she says over her shoulder with her big bedroom
eyes on me.
I fasten the feather corset closed right as the music changes. She turns to me
and adjusts the front to cover her breasts a bit more evenly.
“Thanks.” She gives me a sultry smile, then changes her face into a mask of
upbeat happiness. For some reason, the mask she wears makes a part of me
hurt. How long has she been doing this, and who taught her to hide herself
behind a too-happy façade?
With a deep breath, she runs back out onto stage in her too-high heels and
starts belting out lyrics that have the crowd singing along.
A star. That’s what she is.
But stars like her that shine so brightly—they do it alone. I saw it in her eyes,
in the way she hugged her cat like he was her lifeline.
For a moment I think maybe I could be that for her instead. A safe harbor.
And not just as a job.
But then something in the crowd catches my eye. I can’t see the gun. But
someone along the middle aisle has taken a familiar stance. One I saw in the
military. One that means he’s about to pull the trigger.
“Fiona!” I yell and run for her, tackling her to the stage as the shot rings out
and the screaming starts.
6
Fiona

A hard body lands on me, grunting, knocking all the air out of my lungs. I’d
heard the blast of the gun even with the music blaring all around. It’s often
hard to see into the crowd with the lights hitting you in the face. How close
did I just come to dying? The only thing keeping me calm is the knowledge
that it’s Cyrus on top of me.
“Baby.” I blink up into the same dark gaze that keeps holding me captive.
Did he call me baby? “Fiona.”
I watch his mouth move this time, knowing he said my name. He pulls a gun
out and aims it up. I follow his line of sight as he fires a shot. I watch as it
hits the batten that holds the stage curtains, making them fall to cover the
stage.
He pulls me to my feet and across the stage. I have to run to keep up with him
as we enter the main backstage hallway. He starts to pass my dressing room,
but I pull on his hand. He doesn't stop, and I almost topple over in my heels,
but he catches me once again.
“Kittypuff. I’m not leaving without him.” He locks his eyes with mine.
“Fighting me will only take longer.”
“Not if I pick you up.” Even as he says it he reaches for the handle of the
door. I can still hear the screams coming from the crowd. My stomach turns,
and I pray no one gets hurt because of me. “Fuck,” Cyrus shouts.
“Kittypuff!” I scream, trying to run into the room, but he stops me, going in
first to do a quick check. Tears spring to my eyes as I look around. All the
flowers and vases have been destroyed. The broken pieces are spread
everywhere. My stuffies are gutted with their insides littering the floor.
Kittypuff pokes his head out from behind the little loveseat.
I dash over and grab him, never having had such a feeling of relief in my life.
I don’t have time to kiss him because Cyrus is once again pulling me out of
the dressing room. People run past, and I hear another gunshot, but I keep
moving, knowing this man must have a plan.
Cyrus pushes through an emergency exit, setting off the alarm. The door
slams loudly behind us as the dry desert air hits me. A car comes barreling
toward us. Cyrus pushes me behind him, keeping his gun out. The car comes
to a screeching halt right in front of us.
I peek around Cyrus as a man in a black shirt and pair of jeans jumps out.
Cyrus opens the passenger side door.
“In.”
I do as I’m told. This is not the time to push back. Not that I really ever do.
Cyrus leans down, pulling the seat belt over me. His hand comes to my chin,
turning my face each way, checking me over with gentle care. It’s not
something I would expect from someone who looks like him.
He slams the door and rounds the car as he and the other man share a few
words. Then he slips into the driver seat and takes off after dropping the gun
in the seat between us along with a phone.
Kittypuff sits in my lap curled into a ball. I can feel his little body shaking. I
try to soothe him by petting him. I know he can be a tough guy, but his start
in life wasn't the best either.
“You’re okay. Cyrus is going to keep us safe.” I scratch under his chin, and
he starts to relax some. I steal peeks over at Cyrus.
Cyrus doesn't say a word as he zips in and out of lanes likes it’s nothing. I
can see the tension in his body even though each one of his moves is done
with ease. It reminds me of how I dance. I know the moves and routine the
same as my body knows to breathe. Tonight was different, though. I did what
I was supposed to, but I rode the edge of fear. Something felt off.
When he hits the highway, his tension finally eases a bit. His eyes go from
the road to the rearview mirror. The silence stretches as the car eats up miles
of the highway, making me wonder where we’re going. The farther we get
from the casino, the more I realize I’m alone with a man I don’t really know.
Still, no fear comes. Only the need to fill the silence.
“I don’t know how to drive,” I blurt out. He glances my way for a moment. “I
really don’t know how to do a lot of things. Pay bills, cook, go to the grocery
store. Isn’t that crazy?”
“Pampered?” I drop my head to focus on Kittypuff, not sure if Cyrus is being
rude or not. He’s hard to read. Sometimes I think he’s jealous. That he might
hate the idea of others seeing me naked, but then I realize he might just not
want me picking up more admirers.
“I suppose.” I’d like to do those things, but no one ever really gave me the
option. “Did anyone get hurt back there?”
“Not sure.” He shrugs, not seeming to care. There is a deadly air that always
seems to surround him. I’m sure there’s a reason for that coldness that he
carries in his eyes. Why do I want to warm it? That would be playing with
fire, and no doubt I would get burned.
“I’m not doing any more shows. Not at the risk of other people's lives.”
“Good. I thought that was going to be a fight.”
I shake my head. “But I’m sure Frankie will have something to say about it,”
I remind him. “Please don’t make me go back.” He lifts his hand, his thumb
brushing my cheek. His serious stare is long gone and replaced with a
gentleness I haven’t seen before.
“Not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. My job is to keep
you safe.” He drops his hand, his attention going back to the road.
Right. I forgot, to him I’m only a job. I’m always something.
Never a person. And definitely not someone to love.
7
Cyrus

When we pull up to the private airstrip, Fiona’s eyes go wide.

“What are we doing here?”
“Flying.” I jump out of the car and run around to help her out.
She holds her cat close as she gets to her feet. “We’re flying away? What will
Frankie do?”
“Frankie will have a shitstorm on his hands. He won’t be ready for you to
take the stage anytime soon. Not when the entire auditorium is a crime
scene.”
“Oh.” She edges closer to me as I take her elbow and guide her toward my
Cessna that’s already waiting outside the hangar. Dane called and took care
of it just like I told him. He’s my only close associate in Sin City. Even so, I
can’t trust him with Fiona. Not when she needs me to take care of her. So
we’re leaving.
“I can send for your things if you need—”
“I don’t need anything.” She kisses the cat on the crown of his head. “Just
Kittypuff and me. We’re good.”
“Your phone?” I ask.
“I don’t have one.”
I stop. “What? Why not?”
She shrugs, her eyes falling to the pavement as I reach the Cessna and open
the door for her. “My parents always manage to find the number. So I don’t
give them the chance.”
Fuck, the hurt in her voice tears me apart inside.
“Hey.” I gently lift her chin until she meets my gaze. “I don’t know that
story, but I want to know it. I want to know you. And even though I don’t
have the details, I can already tell you that any shame you feel—you
shouldn’t. Whatever it is, it wasn’t your fault.”
She blinks, her eyes suddenly watery. “No one’s ever—” She cuts herself off
as if she’s afraid she’ll cry.
“I’ve got you, Fiona. Don’t worry.” I help her into the aircraft and strap her
in.
“Is there a belt for Kittypuff?” she asks as I climb up next to her and close the
hatch.
“He’ll be fine. Just hold him tight.” I have the urge to lean over and kiss her.
Nothing predatory. Nothing skeezy. Just something to tell her that
everything’s all right. But after what she just went through, it would be
wrong. She’s probably in shock, her adrenaline on the verge of wearing off.
When that happens—
She yawns. “I’m so tired. I mean, I should be terrified. Someone shot at me,
someone busted up my dressing room, and I’m in pretty much constant
danger—not to mention, look, I’m in a tiny plane.” She yawns again. “But all
I want to do is sleep.”
“It’s normal.” I get the engine going and pull on my headset to clear my
takeoff. Once I’ve got it handled, I taxi us onto the runway.
“It’s not normal.” She says it quietly, so much so that I almost miss it beneath
the sound of the engine. “I never feel safe. Not really. Not safe enough to fall
asleep with someone else, much less someone I’ve only known for a few
hours.”
“I’m not just someone.” I reach out and recline her seat as far as it will go.
Her eyes are closed, Kittypuff in her lap and curled into a tight ball of fur.
“Then who are you?” she asks, her voice drowsy and heavy. Sexy, if I’m
being honest.
“I’m the man for you.” My words are lost as I hit the gas and send us hurtling
down the runway and into the night sky.

***

“We’re here.” I open the hatch and breathe in the cool, crisp air that feels so
much like home it makes my heart ache.
“Where?” Fiona’s eyes blink open. She’s been asleep for the entire flight,
only rousing a little when we touched down.
I couldn’t bear to bother her when she seemed so peaceful. Even Kittypuff
napped, though every so often I’d catch him staring at me with narrow eyes.
He looks so tough with that missing ear, but I’m pretty sure if I talked to him
just right, he’d roll over and let me pet his belly. That, or I’ll come away with
a bloody stump. I guess we’ll have to find out.
“Napa, California.” I jump down from the Cessna and stretch, then reach up
for her. “I’ve got you.”
“I know,” she says quickly, then blushes.
She’s beyond beautiful. I can’t even think of a word for what she is. Ethereal,
maybe? Or does that mean she’s a ghost? I’ve never been much for words, so
I suppose there’s no point in trying to start now.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to Napa. There’s wine, right?” I lead her to my
black Mercedes parked beside the small hangar.
“Plenty of it. My family owns a vineyard here.”
“Wow.” She drops into the passenger seat, her eyes on the sky before she
sinks all the way down. “There are so many stars here.”
“It’s a beautiful place.” I close the door and run around to the driver’s side.
Though I know it’s safe, I still give my family’s private air strip a quick scan.
No movement. Winston’s plane is in the hangar, and I’ll send Linden over in
the morning to tighten up my Cessna, fuel it, and store it.
“So you’re from here?” She’s awake now, her wide eyes taking everything
in.
“Yes.” I pull out onto the highway and head up into the hills above the valley.
“Why would you ever leave?” She stares out the windshield at the hillsides
full of vines and fruit trees. “Even at night, it’s so pretty.” She turns the cat so
he’s facing forward. “Look, Kittypuff. It’s like a dream.”
I don’t have an easy answer to her question, and I hope she’ll forget she
asked it. But she doesn’t.
“So why are you in Vegas when you could be here?”
“You don’t have to be in Vegas either,” I remind her.
“I kind of do.” She sighs. “I need a break. The tours are so draining. On top
of that, I have a stalker and a set of parents who keep suing me for money,
even though they already took every penny I had before I was emancipated.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Where are your parents?”
She shrugs. “Last I heard they were living a coke-fueled nightmare inside a
Beverly Hills mansion. That’s what the tabloids say, anyway, not that I read
them anymore. No phone.” She smiles sadly. “It’s easier if I don’t know.”
I make a mental note to find and slowly murder her parents. But first things
first. “So that’s why you took a job with Frankie? For a break?”
“That and I was hoping I could call Vegas hom—” She squeals.
I hit the brakes, stopping short of mowing down a small herd of deer in the
road.
“Are they real?” She leans forward.
“Real?” I don’t understand her question.
“Like real deer?”
“Yeah. You mean, not pets?”
“I mean—Oh, look!”
One darts off, and the others follow, leaping into the low brush along the
roadside.
“You’ve never seen a deer before?”
“No. Never.” She smiles, her entire face lighting up. “Just on TV. Oh my
God, Kittypuff, I’m shaking. That was magical!”
Not so magical when they raid the vineyards and we have to go hunting. But
I don’t mention that. In fact, I feel like there are a lot of things that Fiona’s
kind soul doesn’t need to know about.
She leans back and sighs dreamily. “Okay, now you. Tell me why you left.”
I groan. My plan of keeping things from her is already taking a hit. When she
turns those clever, sweet eyes on me, I know I’m going to give in.
And what’s worse? I know it’s not just going to be this time.
8
Fiona

I will never understand leaving a home as breathtaking as this one. There is

so much beautiful space. Even the air out here is different. It’s lighter and
sweet. For the first time in a long time, I feel a sense of peace. Which is crazy
after the night I just had.
The sky here seems as if it goes on for miles and miles without obstruction,
allowing the stars to light up the darkness instead of the glare from a city.
This is what I would call paradise. Not a beach with a cabana and fruity
drinks. This.
I drink it in as I wait for him to tell his story. He already knows mine. There’s
little to tell. I was eaten up by a machine that thrives on young talent like
mine. Chewed up, spit out, and I’ll be chewed up all over again if I make a
new record or get my name in the headlines. No, thank you.
My sad song is overplayed. I want to hear a new one. Maybe Cyrus’s story
will have a happy ending. I hope so.
I wait and listen as Kittypuff snoozes in my lap. It’s tough for me to sit in
silence, but I do my best.
“We had a shit year.” Cyrus finally gives. From the groan he let out when I
asked why he left here to go to Vegas, I know he doesn't really want to share
his story. Sometimes it's good to talk about things. At least that’s what people
say.
I’ve never felt I could trust someone enough to do that. The two people I was
supposed to trust the most in life ruined that for me. My parents were my first
lesson in betrayal. They took a lot more from me than money.
“My first boyfriend sold a story about me to one of those gossip rags. Told
everyone I was a terrible kisser. I was fourteen. At the time, it felt like the
end of the world,” I blurt out, revealing one of my own secrets. He was mad
when I broke up with him. “For the record, I thought he was the bad kisser. I
suppose it’s not a secret if you decided to do a little digging. I haven’t kissed
another boy since. No matter what the tabloids said about all the men I
supposedly dated over the years.”
Cyrus glances over at me, his eyes dropping to my mouth. I lick my lips.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Everyone always sells stories,” I sigh.
“I meant about you being a bad kisser.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip. A part of me wishes he would ask me to show him.
He sighs, and for the first time, I realize he’s carrying an invisible burden.
“My brother and I were in a motorcycle accident a few years ago. A trailer
hauling logs lost control, causing one of them to break free. I didn't react fast
enough.”
I gasp.
“Like that movie ‘Final Destination’?” That had to be terrifying. I can’t
imagine. In the short time I’ve known Cyrus, I’ve seen his reaction skills. He
saved my life tonight because of them.
“We lived. Barely. My brother was worse off than me.”
I can see the pain written all over his face. “I’m sorry.” I reach over and place
my hand on his. He stills for a minute. He’s softening toward me. The fact
that he even shared this with me clues me in to that.
“Your turn.” Right, he wants more. Maybe my sad little life is obvious to
anyone who reads the tabloids, but not to him. He doesn’t know me, but I
want him to. The real me. I take a deep breath to ready myself to tell Cyrus
things I’ve never admitted out loud to any other human being.
“My parents got me for a hundred million before I knew what was
happening.”
Cyrus lets out a string of curses, some that make my ears practically sizzle.
“They’re still trying to claim the rights to the music I made before I was
seventeen. It’s why I’m fighting them in court.” It feels as though it’s never
going to end. “I’ve thought about saying forget it. Telling them that they can
have it all. Even if every time I sing one of those songs at an event I’d have to
pay them. But then they win.”
“They’d be out of your life, though.” His jaw is tight.
I nod. I think that’s another reason I haven't done it. As mad as I am at them,
it’s still hard to let go.
“I fucked up.” He lets out a long breath. “I wasn't in the hospital as long as
my brother Winston, but I was there every day by his side. I let things at the
vineyard fall through the cracks, and I paid the ultimate price. We lost
everything in one of the wildfires. I’d missed an insurance payment. Policy
lapsed. It left us with almost nothing.”
The defeat in his voice breaks my heart. “But you’re rebuilding?” I don’t take
Cyrus as a man that would give up easily.
“I’m trying. I owe it to my brother. I’ve got the house rebuilt. It’s where we’ll
stay.”
“And that’s why you’re in Vegas? To work for Frankie and make money?”
He nods. How much money would you need to rebuild a vineyard? I find
myself wanting to call my financial advisor and cut him a check, but I have
no doubt Cyrus wouldn't take it.
“If you hadn't been there tonight, I might be dead.”
He turns his hand and locks his fingers with mine. A real connection. One
that I feel down to my toes.
Would anyone truly have missed me beyond what I can do for them? I look
out the window, my eyes burning with tears. Because I’m pretty sure the
answer is no. But maybe Cyrus could be that person … I don’t know yet.
“I’m not going to let this sick bastard get to you.”
I turn back to Cyrus, wanting to believe him. I’m already finding that I trust
him. That should scare me, but it doesn't. There is this calm when I’m near
him. This feeling that everything is going to be okay.
I squeeze his warm fingers a little. “I guess we’re both kind of trying to start
over.”
“I’m not sure Vegas is somewhere someone should start over.”
I laugh. “Yeah, but I would get to stay in one place. Sure, I could call it quits.
I’ve done well these past few years out from under my parents, but the reality
is the stage is really the only place that feels like home. The one thing that’s
been consistent in my life.”
The car rolls to a stop. I look out the window to see a majestic house that
seems like it was dropped down straight from Italy. Cyrus exits the car,
coming around and opening the door for me. Kittypuff hops down on his
own. Cyrus offers me his hand. I take it, and he shuts the car door behind me.
“Can I show you something?” he asks.
I nod. He steps towards me, his body pressing into mine as he slowly lowers
his head, making it clear he’s going to kiss me. I stop breathing when his
mouth grazes mine, my eyes falling closed in anticipation.
His tongue darts out and licks the seam of my mouth. I gasp, parting my lips
for him. His tongue slips in, tangling with mine. I moan, sliding my hands up
his chest then around his neck. My feet leave the ground as he pins me to the
side of the car.
He grips my ponytail, tilting my head back more to deepen the kiss. His
fingers tangle in my hair as he pulls the elastic free. I nip his bottom lip,
knowing he got what he wanted as far as me wearing my hair down tonight.
He lets out a groan, and the kiss goes from slow and sweet to wild and full of
passion.
When he breaks away, we both have to try and catch our breath. He lowers
me to my feet gently, my head spinning.
With a smirk, he leads me up the front stairs of the beautiful villa. “Your ex
was full of shit.”
9
Cyrus

T he house is just as amazing as it used to be, grander even. Mom would

approve. She came from a super religious family that was extremely set on
keeping yourself and your things plain, so, naturally, when she got away from
them, she loved to decorate in over-the-top style.
White marble floors in the foyer and a chandelier high overhead—overdone
and breathtaking. But that’s where the extra grandeur ends. The rest of the
house is done with wood floors and a more homey style. It all reminds me of
the way it used to be before Mom and Dad died, before the accident, and
before the fires.
“You okay?” Fiona squeezes my hand.
“Yeah, sorry.” I guess I’d sort of frozen in the entryway. Too many memories
and thoughts.
“It’s okay if you’re not okay.” She leans against me, and Kittypuff trots away
past the wide staircase and down the hall that leads to the kitchen.
“I’m fine. Let’s get you set up here.”
“Where’s your bro—”
“Holy shit!” Winston calls from the top of the stairs, then thunders down
them, his limp barely noticeable. “You’re home! I mean, it’s 2 in the
morning, but you’re home.” He grins and barrels ahead, catching me in a hug
that knocks the wind out of me. A slightly taller version of our dad, he’s
wearing the same SoCal T-shirt he’s had for ages and the flannel pajama
pants Mom got us at least five years ago.
“You should lock your front door,” I say through his hard pats on my back.
“Our door? Nah. It’s always open. Especially for you.” He releases me, his
face only slightly groggy, and turns to Fiona. “And who do we have here?”
For the first time in pretty much ever, jealousy flares inside me. Jealous of
Winston, my little brother. It’s wrong and fucked up, but it doesn’t change
the feeling.
“I’m Fiona.” She steps up and threads her arm through mine.
That little motion soothes me in ways I didn’t know existed.
“Welcome, Fiona. Cy, you could’ve told me you were coming, man. It’s been
so long that I started worrying you were trying to avoid me.” He steps back
and looks at me.
I don’t miss the sliver of hurt in his voice. “Not avoiding you, just trying to
get enough money to restart the vineyard.”
“I’m working on it, too.” He shrugs. “Developing a new app that I think
Silicon Valley is going to cream itself for once I—”
I clear my throat and jerk my chin toward Fiona.
“Err, I mean not ‘cream itself’, that’s um, I mean—”
“I’m in showbiz. There’s absolutely nothing you could say that would shock
me.” Fiona smiles, and even after what she went through and the way her life
has given her nothing but pain, warmth lives in her eyes and the sweet tone of
her voice. “I’m so glad to meet you …” She lets it trail off, and I realize I
haven’t introduced them.
“Winston,” I fill in. “My little brother.”
He smirks at that but gives her a nod. “Welcome to our home.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I ask what brings you two here at such a strange hour?” He cocks his
head to the side just like Dad used to do.
“No point asking.” I don’t tell him what I do in Vegas, but I’m sure he can
guess.
“Someone tried to kill me, and Cyrus is protecting me.”
Every tiny trace of sleep leaves his face as his mouth falls open.
“Yeah.” Fiona nods. “I was onstage and everything. My stalker is mad now, I
guess. I don’t know what set him off. Before he just did creepy stuff, but now
he’s trying to kill me.”
“You’re safe here.” I pull my arm from hers and wrap it around her shoulder.
She snuggles against me, my heart beating double time at the nearness of her.
Winston looks at her, then me, then her, then me again. At least he closes his
mouth.
“So we’re going to kick the shit out of this guy?” he asks me.
“I am. But for now, she needs to rest.”
“Kittypuff!” she calls, and the furball comes running.
“There’s a cat.” Winston sounds bemused.
“He’s a great houseguest. I promise.”
“Sure.” He shrugs. “I’ll get Linden to pick up cat stuff from town tomorrow. I
assume he’ll need to check your plane?”
“Yes, that’d be great.”
“You sure you’re not going to tell me more? I mean, a stalker sounds kind of
heavy duty. Should I get guns or something?” He brings his fingers up and
goes pew pew.
“I’ve got it under control.” I shake my head.
“I’m just happy to be here.” Fiona stares up at the staircase. “It’s so pretty.”
“Thanks.” He grins. “It’s all Cy’s doing. I just hang out here in the lap of
luxury while he does—” He shrugs. “Whatever it is that he does in Vegas.
Sure you don’t want to give me some more details?”
I shake my head.
“Fine.” He sighs. “Come on, I’ve been meaning to show you your room
anyway. And the guest rooms are mostly finished, so Fiona can stay—”
“With me.” I say the words before I even think about them.
“Okay, cool.” He leads us up the stairs, and Fiona gives me a smile so radiant
I might combust.
Kittypuff follows us down the hall, and Winston opens two heavy French
doors.
“This …” I can’t put it into words. It has the same feel as my old bedroom,
the one that burned to nothing but ash. The same navy walls and wood floors,
and even a few trophies Winston must’ve salvaged from the wreckage. “How
did you manage this?” I pull my lacrosse trophy from a small shelf near the
large back windows.
“The metal was only a little out of shape. I got Linden to find someone who
could hammer it back out and add the little wooden thing at the bottom.”
“Nice.” Fiona points to another cup on the shelf. “This one says you were the
best ‘defender’.” She nods. “Sounds about right.”
I’d locked away those memories, the thoughts of the good times Winston and
I used to have. I had to; otherwise the guilt would’ve eaten me alive. If only
I’d acted faster when that log came at us, he’d be all right. As it is, though,
because I failed to protect him, he had to learn to walk again. Some defender
I am.
I put the trophy back on the shelf and turn away from it. “This will do.
Thanks.”
Winston’s face falls a little, and he opens his mouth to say something, then
thinks better of it. “I, um, I’ll head back to bed. Let me know if you need
anything. The bathroom is stocked, and there’s plenty of food downstairs.”
“Thanks, Winston.” Fiona takes over and walks him to the doors. “I
appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” He pauses before he goes.
“And I mean that for both of you.”
I keep my eyes on the window, on the barren hillsides that should be covered
in vines and grapes. But they aren’t. Because of all my fuckups.
The doors close quietly, and Fiona kicks her shoes off then walks over to me.
“You okay?” She runs her hand down my arm.
That simple touch seems to ignite all the emotions inside me, the ones I kept
bundled up and tucked away. The ones I thought were turning to dust.
Instead, they turned into dynamite, and the girl with the sad story and the
hopeful eyes is the fuse.
Without warning, I turn and scoop her into my arms.
She makes a high-pitched sound of surprise as I lay her on the bed and claim
her mouth, continuing our kiss from earlier and turning every bit of my wild
emotion on her, on tasting her, and on pleasing her.
I can’t save myself. I couldn’t save my brother. But I’ll be damned if I don’t
save Fiona.
“Cyrus.” She barely gets my name out before I take her mouth again, owning
her.
She wraps her arms around my neck, her warm body soft beneath mine. I
need more. I need to feel her bare skin, to taste her nipples and the valley
between her thighs. Making her come will quiet the storm inside me.
That’s what I tell myself as I slide my hand between us and into her panties.
As I circle her clit and feel her buck underneath me, her tongue moving more
desperately against mine.
If I make her come, I’ll settle down. I’ll do my job.
So I stroke her clit faster and kiss her neck, sucking and licking as she gasps
and moans beneath me, her small body twisting tight with need.
When I plunge my finger inside her, she comes, her body arching as I take
her pleasure and lick it off her skin. She’s perfect, trusting, and innocent. Her
climax is breathy and strong, her body so ready for me. Just me. I revel in
her, in how she reacts to me.
And like a fucking fool, I thought this taste would bring me to my senses.
Instead, all I want is to do it again.
And again.
And again.
I’m so fucked.
10
Fiona

I wake to the all too familiar purring sounds. Kittypuff’s little body vibrates
against me. He’s such a good fur baby. I reach down to pet him, my eyes
flying open when I feel a hand already doing it. Cyrus.
My eyes meet his gaze, and my heart gives a flutter. I lick my lips, not really
sure how you do this whole morning after thing. Does what happened even
count? We didn’t go all the way, but he did make me orgasm with his fingers.
My face starts to warm as I remember what happened.
“Morning, beautiful.” He reaches over and tucks a piece of hair behind my
ear. This must be how Kittypuff feels when I give him attention. I find myself
wanting to lean into Cyrus’s touch.
“Hi” is all I can get out. My thoughts are too scattered to form a full sentence
at this point.
Kittypuff has made himself right at home, having wedged himself between
Cyrus and me. Cyrus doesn't look like he minds at all. He’s petting my fluffy
brat, and Kittypuff is letting him. I suppose I’m not the only one with a crush.
“You passed out on me.”
“Oh God.” I pull the blanket over my head, hiding myself. I hear him let out a
deep chuckle that’s too damn sexy before he pulls the blanket back off my
head.
“You’re good for a man’s ego.”
“Hush.” I smack his chest. He laughs, grabbing my hand and pulling me up
on top of him. I let out a small scream. Kittypuff makes his exit, giving a
disapproving look before I hear him jump down from the bed.
“I want my morning kiss.” How did this man go from the deadly silent type
that acted like he didn't like me to this sweet and charming man in such a
short time? I love that he feels comfortable enough to share this side of
himself with me.
“Morning breath.”
“Don’t give a shit.” His hand grips my hair, and he pulls me down for a kiss.
I moan into his mouth, kissing him back. I thought for so long kissing was
overrated. I was wrong. He releases me after a moment. “If I don’t stop, we’ll
never get out of this bed.”
“I’m not sure I see a problem with that.”
He lets out a groan but rolls us over so he’s on top of me this time. He kisses
me again, making me get lost in him. Too soon, he’s jumping from the bed.
“I need to feed you.” He runs his hand through his hair. The act makes him
look younger. My eyes trace down his body, taking in every hard line. His
chest is covered in a thin layer of hair. He looks every bit of a man and not
one of those models who are waxed and plucked.
“Fiona.” I snap my eyes back up right before they start to dip lower. “I’ll get
you some pants.” He walks over to a closet and comes back a moment later
with a pair of boxers. I take them from him and slip them on under the shirt
he’d given me last night. I have to roll them a few times to get them to stay
put. I feel sexier standing in front of him in these clothes than I ever have in
any of my stage costumes.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he says, then gives me one last look before he
leaves the bedroom.
I could go to sleep in one country and wake up in another. I’m used to my life
changing with the flip of a coin. Living that way has become the norm for
me. This, though, with Cyrus, I never in a million years could have seen
coming.
I make quick work in the bathroom, wanting to be back near Cyrus. I leave
my hair down since I know that’s how he likes it. When I enter the kitchen,
he’s standing at the stove. His brother is sitting at the kitchen island with a
laptop in front of him.
“Morning,” Winston says. His smile comes easily.
“Morning,” I answer.
He pulls out the chair next to him with his foot. I take it. Kittypuff has made
himself at home on the counter, where he’s eating something out of a bowl.
“How do you take your coffee?” Cyrus asks, turning from the stove. He put a
stupid shirt on.
“I don’t. Water is fine.”
“No coffee?” Winston says in shock.
“To be honest, sometimes I sneak a soda in the morning.”
“Sneak?” Cyrus asks as he walks over to the refrigerator. He pulls out a Coke
for me.
“Yeah, they don’t openly tell me I can’t eat this or that, but people make
comments.” I take a sip and let out a small moan, closing my eyes and
enjoying the burn. Cyrus clears his throat.
“Sorry.” My face starts to heat. Cyrus gets back to making breakfast. My
stomach growls when I realize he’s making pancakes with bacon. I haven’t
had that in a really long time. It’s one of my absolute favorites.
“I still need a list of your exes. We have to start narrowing the suspects
down.” He opens a drawer and searches around until he finds a pen and piece
of paper. He hands it to me. I’m guessing he wants me to do it now.
“That list is going to be long,” Winston says with a low whistle. “I’m not
shaming you or anything,” he rushes to say. “But you’ve dated what a lot of
people consider to be some of the hottest men in the world.” I jump when a
pan comes down hard onto the counter.
Oops Winston mouths. I stare back at him. He seems to know a little too
much about the hottest men in the world and also about my dating life.
“You know who I am?”
“Fiona Herring. Yeah, I wanted you to feel relaxed here so I didn’t freak out
or anything when I recognized you earlier. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask
for an autograph,” he says. “Not today anyway.” He winks, making me laugh.
“Will you two stop flirting and let her make the damn list? Sounds like it
might take a while,” Cyrus grumbles.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Winston holds his hands up in mock
surrender. I think Cyrus forgot about me pretty much admitting to him I’ve
only ever kissed one boy before. In his defense, a lot has happened. I’m sure
that’s the last thing on his mind.
“I’m not after your girl,” Winston tells his brother.
I don’t think he’s after any girl at all, to tell you the truth.
“We’ll start with Brandon.” I write his name down.
“You were the height of his career,” Winston says, making me laugh. He
really did fall off the map after that. Cyrus gives us another look.
“Cy.” I say his name gently. His face softens. “That would be my whole list
unless you want me to put all of the fake relationships.”
“What? No way. That shit wasn’t real?” Winston asks.
“Not at all. Fake dates and movie premieres. It’s all part of the game. We
give each other publicity.”
Cyrus relaxes even more at my explanation.
“It’s all smoke and mirrors, nothing real.” I push the paper to the side.
“Not even Jameson? You two had chemistry.”
A growl comes from Cyrus. I shouldn't find it both hot and adorable that he's
jealous about this, but I do. He wants me for himself.
“We were really good friends. Still are, but he travels a ton for work.”
“Friends?” Winston lifts his brows.
“Let’s just say I’m not his type, so it made it easy for us to be close.”
“Good to know. Now maybe my brother will stop taking his anger out on the
cookware and make our breakfast.”
I burst into laughter. Winston joins me. I don’t miss the smirk on Cyrus’s
lips. This feels nice. Normal. I could get used to something like this. Even if
it might never really be mine.
11
Cyrus

T racing Brandon should be easy, and the rest of her boyfriends weren’t
actually close with her. I shouldn’t feel one way or another about that, but I
do. I’m glad she doesn’t have any entanglements. That makes keeping her
here easy. It also means … that maybe I have a shot with her.
I shouldn’t be thinking that way, but I am. I’ve told myself over and over that
she’s a job, nothing more. But last night proved otherwise. She came for me,
fell apart in my arms as I gave her what she needed. And then she passed out,
utterly spent and comfortable. Safe with me.
She slept sweetly beside me as thoughts tumbled through my mind. Like
what I’m going to do when I find her stalker, what to say when Frankie calls
—and he’s definitely going to call—and what I’ll do when she leaves. Just
the idea of her leaving and never coming back sets my teeth on edge.
“Dude, put the mug down. You’re going to shatter it.” Winston takes my
empty coffee cup from my hands. “You all right?”
“Yeah, just thinking.”
He raises a brow at my white knuckles. “Try and do less of that.” He limps to
the sink and starts rinsing dishes for the dishwasher. The whole setup here is
perfect. Two huge fridges set into the wall, plenty of cabinets, a wide gas
range, and double ovens big enough to fit a feast inside. I chose the tile for
the wall, a robin’s egg blue that our father used to favor. He painted his old
fishing boat that color even though his friends gave him shit about it.
“You thinking about the boat?” Winston asks when he sees me staring at the
tile.
“There’s a boat?” Fiona asks and finishes her last bite of bacon. “And, oh my
God, this was amazing. A girl could get used to this food baby.” She rubs her
stomach, and for a fleeting moment, I imagine her filled with my child. Fuck,
this girl is already embedded deep under my skin.
Winston drops some silverware into the dishwasher. “Yeah, our dad used to
fish.”
“He didn’t catch much,” I add.
“But he still loved to be out on the water. There’s a creek that runs through
the property. In the spring, it can be pretty big when the snow runoff makes
its way here from the mountains. He’d float out there all day, just fishing in
his little boat.”
I smile. “When I hit about 12 years old, I got too big to go with him anymore.
Almost sank the boat a couple of times before he gave up and let me fish
from the shore.”
“Wow, he sounds like a fun dad.” Fiona puts her hand over mine. “You two
must miss him a lot.”
“We do.” Winston nods. “That’s why this house has so many things in it to
remind us of him and Mom.”
“The tile.” I point at the backsplash. “That’s the color he painted his boat.”
She reaches out and runs her fingers along the crackled blue-green glaze. “I
love it. Your dad had an eye for color.”
“Too bad he didn’t have an eye for picking fishing spots.” Winston grins and
goes back to the dishes.
I stand and help Fiona to her feet.
“So what are we going to do today?” she asks with a smile.
“Do you need to practice or anything?” Winston whirls, soap bubbles all over
his hands. “I know all the dance moves from your Motivation tour, and I can
totally back you up on vocals if you—”
“Really? All of them?”
Winston shakes his hands off in the sink, then shimmies toward us, his limp
all but gone as he swings his hips. “I got it all. I can even do the dead drop
you always do at the end of ‘Rack 'Em Up.’ See? Watch.” He spins and sort
of leans back as he falls.
“Fuck!” I lunge over the bar and grab his shirt before he hits the floor. “What
the fuck are you doing?”
“Hey!” He scowls up at me. “You ruined it!”
Fiona’s laughter is like wind chimes in the summer. And it grows until it’s
boisterous and wild. I yank Winston to his feet, and we both turn to watch her
doubling over, her cheeks pink as she giggles. Kittypuff stares, too, his food
forgotten for the moment.
When she straightens again, she wipes at her eyes. “You two are more fun
than I’ve had in a really, really long time.”
“Didn’t you just come from Vegas?” Winston straightens the front of his
shirt.
“This place is a million times better.” Her gaze strays to the window and out
into the back garden. “I promise.”
“You two can do your death-defying dance moves later. I want to show her
around first.” I wrap my arm around her waist and lead her out of the kitchen.
“Fine, but when you get back, I can be in full makeup if you want,” he calls.
I roll my eyes, and it feels like old times. It really does. But then everything
else crashes down on me when I remember the mess I made. Winston’s limp,
the vineyard gone, and all the bad things I’ve had to do in Vegas to make up
for it.
“What are you thinking?” Fiona stops and puts a hand to my cheek. “You
were happy … and now you, well, aren’t. What happened in here?” She
lightly drags her fingertips across my temple.
I want to tell her, to really tell her, but burdening her with my endless guilt
isn’t going to do anything except maybe make me feel better. She doesn’t
need that weight on her. I’m supposed to protect her, not use her as my
therapist.
“You can tell me,” she says softly.
I can’t. I won’t.
“Come on. Let’s find you some shoes.” I take her hand and pull her toward
the back of the house.
“Where are we going?”
“I haven’t seen Linden around this morning, so I’m betting the horses need
feeding. Winston’s doing dishes, so I figure it’s only fair.”
“Horses?” She bounces on the balls of her feet. “Like real ones?”
“You like horses?” I grab a pair of relatively new sneakers from the mud
room at the back of the house, then find some mismatched socks thrown on
top of the dryer.
“I love horses!” She claps as I sit her down on the bench by the door and get
her sock and shoe situation sorted out. “I mean, I’ve never actually seen one
up close, but—”
“Never?” I stop stuffing the too-big shoe with an extra sock.
“No, but I always wanted to ride one. Can we ride one?” Her excitement is
like a vibration through the air. “I mean, if that’s okay. It’s fine if we can’t. I
don’t want to be a pain in your—”
“We can ride for as long as you want.” I stand and pull her to her feet.
“Really?” She beams, and I fall right back into her, because how can I resist?
I kiss her and grab her ass, lifting her until she’s eye level with me. Pinning
her against the wall, I deepen the kiss. When she wraps her legs around me,
my hard cock nudges against her hot core. Fuuuuuck, she’s like a furnace
between her thighs, and I’m desperate to get burned.
We kiss until we’re breathless, and when I pull back, all I can think about is
tasting her everywhere. It would be so easy to just slide those boxers down
her—
My phone rings. It’s Frankie. I know it as sure as I know my girl is wet and
needy for me.
She bites her lip. “Do you need to—”
I groan and put her down, then turn her toward the back door. “Go on out and
wait for me, all right?”
“Sure.” She’s eager to get out into the sun where she belongs.
I give her a small smack on her tight ass, and she yelps as she hurries out into
the bright morning as I push the door open.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Bring her back here right now,” Frankie snarls.
“No can do.”
“The fuck you say?” His voice rises. “She’s my cash cow. Mine. And if she
isn’t on my fucking stage, she isn’t making me any money.”
“She can’t make you a dime if she’s dead.” I lean against the door frame.
“That’s what I hired you for! And what did you do? You let my whole casino
get shot up?”
“I take it you didn’t catch the guy?”
“No, fucking useless security. Useless cops.”
“She’s not safe there, Frankie.” I try to sound reasonable even though I want
to throat punch him for putting her in danger.
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“I want her back here in the morning.” I hear something shatter in the
background. “Bring her back!”
“No can do.”
“You’re breaching our agreement.”
“Nothing in our agreement said I had to protect her in Vegas. Look, I’m
going to find this guy and get rid of him. But I need time, and she needs to be
somewhere I can keep her safe. Vegas isn’t that place. Give me a week and
—”
“A week?” he screeches, and something else shatters.
“A week.” I barrel onward. “I’ll do more research, find the guy, and punch
his ticket, then Fiona can come back if that’s what she wants to do.”
“Who gives a fuck what she wants? She’s under contract, just like you. And
you’re on thin fucking ice, Cyrus. You may be the best, but you aren’t
invincible.”
My grip tightens on the phone. “Frankie, if you want to threaten me, go
ahead. But I’ll have you recall the last time someone threatened me. Do you
remember what happened to Vargas?”
He goes silent for a long while, no doubt recalling the gruesome end of one
of Vegas’s most notorious crime bosses. He was untouchable, a monster who
preyed on the weak and who put out a contract on me for busting up some of
his trafficking operations while I was on another job. Frankie remembers it
all, and every one of the crime lords in Vegas knows not to fuck with me.
“Vargas, fuck. Did they ever find all of him?” His tone has ratcheted down
some.
“They never will.” I smirk. “Give me a week. I’ll be in touch.” I end the call.
I have no doubt Frankie just smashed something else in his gilded penthouse,
but I don’t care.
I open the back door and find Fiona picking daisies and sunflowers from a
garden patch beside the pool. The sun in her hair, the wind caressing her
radiant skin—she looks like a goddess of the spring. One I intend to keep
close for as long as she’ll let me.
12
Fiona

I smile over at Cyrus as he gracefully slips off his horse. After we fed some
of the animals, he took me out for a ride to the vineyard. He spent the day
showing me every inch of the land. It was easy to see how much pride he has
in this place. I have no doubt the fire wrecked him. There’s nothing worse
than watching the place you call home go up in flames.
“Let me help you.” He offers me his hands, helping me slip off of Dolly. I
slide down him, feeling every inch of his hard body until my feet hit the barn
floor. “You’re covered in mud.” It’s all over me, even in my hair. I couldn’t
care less. It feels awesome.
“I couldn't help myself.” I laugh. “Dolly wanted to run through the puddles.”
“I’ll have to take you out on the four wheelers next.”
“Really? Don’t tease me.” I grip his shirt, getting excited. I’m never going to
want to leave this place. Each second I’m here, I find myself falling more and
more in love with it. I get Cyrus’s need to rebuild this place.
He looks down at me, something like a smile tickling along his lips. “You’re
something special. You know that?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I had you working the stalls this morning, and you hummed the whole time
having the time of your life.”
I snort a laugh. He hadn't made me do it. He started doing it, and I joined in
willingly. I didn't know I’d enjoy it as much as I did. It was so different from
what I do in my everyday life.
“It wasn't my favorite part of the day, but I want to do my part around here. If
Dolly is going to take me for a ride, I can surely feed her and clean up a little
horse shit.”
He leans down, dropping a kiss on my lips. I grip his shirt tighter when he
deepens the kiss. This is by far my favorite part of the day.
“Shit. Sorry.” We break away at the sound of Winston’s voice. My face
heats. I mean we’ve been caught making out as if we’re teenagers who snuck
off to the barn. That thought actually has me smiling, because I never got to
do normal teenage things growing up.
“You’re fine,” I rush to say when he turns to leave. This is his place, after all.
I don’t want to make anyone feel out of place in their own home.
“I’ll put the horses up. Why don’t you go get cleaned up? Linden should have
brought some clothes for you by now.” Cyrus gives my ass a squeeze before
letting me go.
“He did. I put them in your room,” Winston says.
“I’ll make us something to eat after I shower,” Cyrus adds.
I nod and take off toward the house. The sun is already setting over the
vineyard, giving a breathtaking view. It’s a perfect ending. I still can’t believe
how fast the day passed before we even realized it. I have to admit that
horseback riding wasn’t anywhere as easy as I thought it would be. But I got
the hang of it pretty quickly.
I make my way through the house, making sure to leave my muddy shoes out
on the patio. I immediately head to Cyrus' bedroom. It shouldn’t come as a
surprise that Kittypuff is curled up on top of the bed snoozing away. I give
him a little pet on the head before I dig through the bag on the bed to find
some yoga pants and a soft pink top. I take them with me into the bathroom
then turn on the hot water before I get into the shower.
A small moan leaves me as the warm water runs down my body. I close my
eyes, my mind playing the day back. I can’t remember the last time I smiled
this much. Smiles that weren’t forced. Everything about this place is real and
natural. It heals the soul. I think more people need to see this place, and it’s
magic.
It’s such a damn shame the vineyard isn’t growing any longer, the rows
barren until Cyrus saves up enough to get new vines. He told me all about the
ones he and his brother want, an heirloom variety—their talk went way over
my head. But I got the gist the vines would be super expensive.
An idea starts to form in my mind. I want a way to help Cyrus. The man
saved my freaking life and is trying to keep me safe. It’s the least I can do,
and I know he’s not going to just take a handout from my bank account. This
might be different, though. It would not only raise money but get the word
out about this place, too.
I grab the soap and start washing the mud from my body. My mind drifts
with thoughts of this place being my home. What would it be like to wake up
here every morning with Cyrus next to me in bed? He could kiss me good
morning and good night every day.
He could do other things too. My breath catches as I slide my hand between
my thighs, leaning up against the shower wall. The thought of him showering
with me has me so turned on. He would be the one to get me clean. His hands
would travel all over my body. Aren’t those the small things that couples do
together? I want to experience all of it. The simple things in life.
I moan as I rub my clit harder, wishing it was Cyrus’s skilled hand and not
my own. His touch is firm, his fingers callused, making it that much better.
“Cyrus,” I moan his name. I’m close but not close enough.
“Fuck.” My eyes fly open, and I find Cyrus standing outside the shower in
only a pair of jeans, the top button undone. I stare at him in shock for a
moment before I start to pull my hand from between my legs. “Don’t stop.”
His voice is strangled.
I lean back again, my fingers going to my clit. The knowledge that he’s
watching turns me on more. Cyrus reaches into his jeans and pulls out his
thick cock. I let out a small gasp as he wraps his hand around himself and
starts to stroke. A bead of cum drips from the tip already. The head looks red
and angry as he starts to pump himself faster. I lick my lips, suddenly having
an overwhelming urge to drop to my knees and taste him.
“Touch your tits,” he orders. A thrill runs through me at that, and I do as I’m
told, needing to please him. When I cup my breasts, the look of approval in
his eyes spurs me on to pull at my nipple.
Cyrus reaches out, bracing his other hand on the wall as he jacks himself off.
His eyes are all over my body. I can feel them like a touch to my skin.
“You going to come for me, baby? You like when I watch you?”
“Yes.” I nod. “Please.”
“Come,” he snaps.
I scream his name as the orgasm hits me. My knees go weak, but I don’t fall.
Cyrus is there before I can, wrapping his arm around my waist to support me
as the orgasm rolls through my body. I can feel him jerking himself against
me. He grunts as he comes all over my stomach.
He lifts me off my feet, and I wrap myself around him as he presses me into
the shower wall. He buries his face in my neck, holding me tight. I never
want him to let me go.
13
Cyrus

She’s too much. Her slick breasts press against me, and my cock is already
hardening again at the thought of plunging inside her.
“I need to slow down.” I run my teeth along her neck, her breaths coming in a
pant as I pin her to the shower wall.
“Why?” She grips my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin.
“Because you don’t know me.” If she did, there’s no way she’d want to be
alone with me, much less naked in a shower.
“You protect me.” She says it so patiently, like I’m a foolish schoolkid and
she’s the kind teacher who took an interest. . . If the teacher had a body like a
goddess and a mouth that gives me so many filthy ideas.
“I do, and that’s where I need to focus.” I pull back and look into her
sparkling eyes. “I need to keep you safe and finish the job.”
“The job.” She pulls her hands away.
I want them back, but she’s right to pull away.
“I’m a job.” She gives a hard nod and pushes against me.
Reluctantly, I lower her to the floor and back away.
My jeans are soaked, but I pull them up and turn around, giving her privacy.
“There’s more, Fiona. You aren’t just a job.”
“Then what am I to you?”
A temptation. A wish that can never come true. A fucking fever dream of
perfection that can never be mine.
“You’ve been taken advantage of. You’ve been hurt.” I take a step away. “I
don’t want to be the one who hurts you next.”
“Oh.” The sadness in her voice almost makes me turn around. Almost. But if
I do, I’ll only hurt her more when she finds out who I really am, all the
horrible things I’ve done, and all the things I’m capable of doing if it means
she’s safe.
It takes every ounce of control I have, but I walk out of the bathroom and let
her shower.
I have to, because if I don’t, I’ll fuck up her life even more. I can’t do that to
her. She’s been through enough.
I close the bathroom door and change into some dry clothes while Kittypuff
eyes me suspiciously from the bed.

***

“What did you do?” Winston raises a brow at me as I walk into the living
room.
“What?” I sink onto the leather sofa and lean back.
“You have that look on your face.” He points.
“What look?”
“The one you have when you know you’ve fucked up.”
“I don’t have that look.”
He frowns. “Remember that time we found the little family of hedgehogs in
that little patch of trees by the creek?”
“No,” I lie.
“I do. You were like ten, and you picked up one of the baby hedgehogs, and
you were doing fine until its mother came running at you. Right before you
got spiked in the ankle, you had the same look on your face. You knew you
were fucked right at that second. Same face now.”
I remember. The baby hedgehog, the sting in my ankle, the way the cool
creek water made it feel better.
Right now, the only thing that can make me feel better is Fiona, having her in
my arms, loving her, being honest with her. But she’s not for a man like me.
I’m jaded at best, ruined at worst. And I still haven’t atoned for what
happened to Winston or the vineyard. It won’t be done until the vineyard is
fully functioning again, and that isn’t a possibility unless I find Fiona’s
stalker, take him out, then get her back to Vegas. I sigh low and long as all
these thoughts and more form a roar between my ears.
“That bad, huh?” He shakes his head and takes the seat across from me.
“There’s just a lot.”
“Tell me about it.”
I shake my head.
He rubs his knee. “Rain’s coming soon.”
“You can tell that now?” I gesture toward his leg.
“No, I just heard it on the radio.” He shrugs and leans back.
I still remember the way his body looked crumpled on that roadway. His eyes
closed and his leg mangled. If only I’d reacted faster, he’d be whole. My
father always said it was my job to protect my little brother—whether it be
from school bullies or anything else. But I failed.
“God, you’re so fucking gloomy.” He kicks his feet up on the coffee table
between us. “I know you think you’re protecting me by not telling me the
details of the shit you’re doing in Vegas to rebuild this place, but I’m not a
fool, okay? I know you aren’t a showgirl or some card shark. You aren’t
fooling me. And you aren’t fooling that girl, either.” He points at the ceiling
toward my room where Fiona’s probably out of the shower now. Maybe she’s
in my bed, snuggled up with her cat.
“I’m not trying to fool her. I’m trying to protect her.” I rub the bridge of my
nose.
“The same way you’re trying to protect me? To make up for the wreck and
the fire—neither of which were your fault?”
I shrug off his words. He may not blame me for his injuries, but he should.
“Cy, I would’ve died if it weren’t for you.” Frustration seeps into his tone.
“Why won’t you accept that you did all you could?”
“Because I didn’t.”
“You did!” He slams his palm on the arm of his chair. “You saved my
fucking life. But you keep acting like I’m useless, like I can’t possibly
understand what you’re doing.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“I know you’re not trying to make me feel any type of way, but I do. I’m a
grown man, Cy, and I don’t blame you. For any of it—the wreck, the fire, the
insurance.”
He’s told me this so many times, but I just can’t accept it. I can’t let it go. I
have to make it right.
He scrubs a hand through his hair. “Dude, you’re making me crazy.
Seriously, just stop. I’m working on some apps, the house is rebuilt, and once
we can get those vines, things are going to be coming up rosés.”
I snort a laugh at his pun but not much else. “I know you don’t blame me. But
I blame me, and I can’t let it go. Not until I get the vineyard back to where it
was.”
“You got the house way better than it was before. Why can’t you just call it a
day?”
“Because that’s not me.”
“I know.” He sighs. “I know you’re the most stubborn member of this
family.” He stands. “But I’ll tell you something else: If you don’t stop this
martyr bullshit, the best thing that’s ever happened to you is going to slip
through your fingers.”
My gaze lifts.
“Yes, her. The biggest pop star with the best dance moves and the cutest
songs. She’s amazing. A fucking gem. And if you don’t get your self-loathing
head out of your ass, she’s going to get away. I know you want her. Don’t
play.” He waggles his brows at me.
He’s not wrong. I get a jolt of heat when I think of what Fiona was doing in
the shower. Her small hand between her thighs, my name on her lips.
“I like that expression much better.” He starts stacking kindling in the
fireplace for the cool night ahead. “Horny is always better than sad.”
Maybe what he’s said has some truth to it. At least on one count. I have to
apologize to Fiona. Fuck. I hate apologizing.
I stand and stretch, then turn toward the stairs.
“Grovel,” he says. “Make it good.”
I wave him off. In this instance, I don’t need his advice. I know just how to
apologize to Fiona, and I intend to do it with my tongue.
14
Fiona

I stare in the mirror, feeling more than annoyed. On one hand, Cyrus is
trying to be a good man, but on the other, he’s not even giving whatever there
is between us a chance. He thinks he’s going to hurt me. Is that because this
will only be a fling for him, or is there something else that I don’t know?
Cyrus carries so much responsibility on his shoulders. I wish he would let
others share the burden with him. I have no doubt his brother would carry
some for him. He is so driven to rebuild this place that in the process he’s
pushing everyone away. I can see it so clearly, but I guess that’s because I’m
on the outside looking in.
When he talked about his parents today while we were horseback riding, I
could tell they were all a close loving family. This place is all about that
bond. I think the last thing his parents would want him to do is push his
brother away. They should be leaning on each other to get through all this.
Cyrus has no idea what he’s missing by taking everything on himself. For so
long I’ve longed to have a relationship like he has with Winston. Someone I
could trust with everything. Someone who actually gave a crap about me
because they loved me and not because of my money or connections.
It makes me sad, but more than that, if I’m being honest, Cyrus not allowing
himself to explore what we have pisses me off. Grrr.
I mean, he is right in a sense. People have tried to use me in one way or
another, and others still dictate my life. I’m always going and doing what I’m
told. If it’s not Frankie, it’s some other manager or set runner. Cyrus may not
realize it, but he is doing the exact same as everyone else. Thinking he knows
what’s best for me. I’m sick of it. When do I get to start making decisions for
myself?
I tie the front of my robe before putting the brush I found back in the drawer.
I’m not sure how I’m going to handle Cyrus. Did he forget we’re sharing a
bed? I want to push, but when is someone going to fight for me? He fights for
everything else. Why not me? Am I not worth it to him? I huff. I know I’m
probably being dramatic. After all, he barely knows me. He already has so
much going on in his life that he doesn’t need my added crap.
It’s just … I thought I finally found someone that I could be myself around.
Letting my guard down wasn’t an easy thing for me to do, but for him I was
willing to take the chance. I take a deep breath and exit the bathroom in
search of Kittypuff.
Cyrus comes rushing in the bedroom door looking out of breath. He pauses
for a moment before he kicks the door closed behind him. He eats up the
space between us in four long steps.
“I’m stupid,” he says before he kisses me.
My heart races.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
I melt into him.
“So fucking stupid.”
I roll my eyes. “Now I can’t even be mad at you.”
He kisses my jaw and then the shell of my ear. He pulls at the belt to my robe
before pushing it off my shoulders, leaving me naked in front of him.
“I’m going to make it up to you.” He grips my ass, picking me up and
carrying me over to the bed. He lays me down in the center of it. “Going to
worship your body as it should be.” My stomach flutters from the hungry
look in his eyes.
“Yes,” I agree as he trails kisses down my neck to my chest. “You should
show me just how sorry you are for telling me what’s best for me, for not
letting me make my own decisions, for trying to put distance betwe—Oh!”
He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. His fingers toy with the other,
driving me wild. “Cyrus.” What was I saying? I dig my fingers into his
shoulders, needing more from him.
“Fuck, you taste sweet everywhere,” he answers, placing open-mouthed
kisses down my stomach before placing a kiss on each of my hip bones. By
the time he’s done, he’s going to have kissed every single inch of me.
He glances up at me as he spreads my legs wider, making room for his broad
shoulders and opening me all the way to him. I know I'm used to prancing
around on stage in costumes that leave little to the imagination, but this is
different. I’m laid bare to him, not only physically but emotionally as well.
I whimper when he kisses his way up the insides of my thighs. I lift my hips,
needing him there. My nipples are painfully tight, and my whole body throbs
with need. He inhales deep, breathing me in like he wants me inside of him.
“Cyrus!” I snip his name. He lifts his head, a sexy smirk on his lips.
“I’m savoring every inch of you.” He really is worshipping me. Not the pop
star but me. His warm breath tingles against my sex, making me moan again.
I’m so wet it’s almost embarrassing.
“All this for me?” He takes one long lick up through the folds of my sex. My
whole body jerks when his tongue reaches my clit before he’s dragging it
back down and thrusting it inside of me.
I gasp in surprise as he pushes his tongue in and out of me. My hips rock with
him. He replaces his tongue with a finger. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out
before his mouth latches on to my clit.
I grip the sheets as the orgasm hits me. It spreads throughout my body like a
wildfire consuming me. My whole body heats from the pleasure. He doesn't
stop. He pushes another finger inside of me as he laps up every drop of my
orgasm and goes for another.
“Cyrus!” I cry out his name as my thighs start to shake. I can feel another
orgasm coming. His tongue flicks my clit back and forth.
I close my eyes when he hooks his fingers inside of me, hitting a spot I didn't
know was there. My back comes off the bed, another orgasm consuming me,
coming from someplace deeper. It’s more intense than the last one.
He milks the orgasm from me until my whole body melts into the bed. He
kisses his way back up my stomach and chest. I open my eyes to see the look
of satisfaction on his face.
“Will you make love to me, Cyrus?”
He sucks in a deep breath. He’s still fully clothed. “Are you sure?”
“I want this.”
“I can’t tell you no.” He pulls his shirt off over his head before he ditches his
pants. He kisses me. Tasting myself on his lips is erotic. It makes me feel
sexy and wanton. I gasp when the head of his cock begins to press into me. I
grip his shoulders.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, breaking our kiss.
“No.” I dig my fingers into him more. “I want you. All of you.” He groans,
pushing the rest of the way inside of me. I cry out at the sharp pain.
“Fuck.” He growls placing kisses all over my face until I start to relax. I can
tell he’s fighting himself. He wants to move. “Tell me you’re okay,
sweetness.”
I lick my lips. “I’m more than okay.” I wrap my legs around him. I’ve never
in my whole life felt so connected to someone.
“You’re so damn breathtaking. I don’t deserve you, but there’s no going back
now.” He kisses me before I can respond as he thrusts in and out of me.
I moan at the feeling of being stretched full of him. The small burn of pain
mixing with pleasure as he thrusts harder.
“Not going to last. You’re so damn tight. Like a vise.” His grunts of pleasure
have me clenching around him in no time.
He slips his hand between us, his fingers going to my clit as he shifts. I moan
when he hits the spot deep inside of me. He feels like he’s everywhere. In this
moment I’m not alone. We’re bonded together. The thought triggers another
orgasm. My sex locks down around him, never wanting to let him go.
“Fiona!” He shouts my name as he starts to come. I feel him spill deep inside
of me. His body jerks over mine, and another groan leaves him as he buries
his face in my neck and says my name like a prayer over and over.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m home. I pray that Cyrus wants to
keep me forever. All to himself.
15
Cyrus

She sings as she awkwardly flips pancakes, and Winston moves his hips to
her song while he loads up a pan with bacon.
“Up early.” I stride in and kiss her neck.
“I wanted to get Dolly and Elvis fed so we can go for a nice ride down to the
far vineyard.”
We’ve been here five blissful days, and every morning I wake up to Fiona.
She’s like a dream, her song luring me closer and closer. I love it. And what’s
more, I know I’ve fallen for her. It’s too much, too soon, too everything—but
I can’t deny it.
For the first time in a long, long time, I feel something other than remorse,
than pain, than vengeance. I look at my life like something of value instead of
just regret. Fiona’s done that for me. Pulled me from the depths of hell in
Vegas and shown me that maybe I’m more than the sum of my mistakes.
“This one looks kind of like a heart.” Fiona holds up her pan with a lopsided
pancake inside.
“Looks good to me.” I slide into my seat at the bar.
Linden looks up from his cell phone. “Are there blueberries in it?”
“Sprinkles.” Fiona grins and plates the pancake before pouring another one.
“You want this one?” she asks Linden.
“I’m watching my figure.” He shakes his head and sips his coffee. “There’s a
drag show in the village next month. I’m trying to win this time.”
“You’ll get it.” Winston flips the bacon. “Your routine is flawless.”
“It is,” Fiona agrees. “I love it all, and your outfits are fire. Right, Cy?” she
asks me brightly.
“Uh, yeah. Fire.” I nod, though I’m certain Linden doesn’t listen to my style
advice.
“This old queen is happy to have someone with a younger fashion sense in
residence.”
“I’m young,” Winston protests.
“Yes, but I said someone with fashion sense.” Linden sips his coffee as
Winston and Fiona giggle.
I smile into my own coffee. When was the last time we were happy like this?
It hasn’t been since before the fires. Maybe not since Mom and Dad were
alive. But damn, it feels good to laugh again, and it feels even better to share
those laughs with Fiona.
“Okay, this one looks more like Texas.” She holds up the pan.
“I’ll have Texas, looks pretty good.” I lean over the counter and hand her my
plate.
Once everything is served up, we all breakfast together, talking about our
plans for the day. My phone vibrates, and I already know it’s Frankie.
“Excuse me for a minute.” I stand.
“Frankie?” Fiona rolls her eyes.
I lean down and kiss her. “I’ll be out to get your tack ready in a minute.”
She kisses me back. “I’m going to eat your bacon while you’re gone.”
“Vicious.” I kiss her again, then take the call and dart into the living room.
“It’s been a week, Cyrus. Where the fuck is she?” he yells.
“It’s been five days, Frankie, not a fucking week like we agreed, and I need
more time.”
“I don’t want to hear that shit, Cyrus. We had a deal. I need—”
“I have a lead on the stalker.” I drop my voice so Fiona can’t hear me. “One
that I think could pan out, but I need more time to lock it down.”
“What’s the lead?” He’s calmer, but only a little.
“A guy who tried to take over her fan club a couple years ago. I’ve done
some digging, and this guy is obsessed with her.” I grip the phone tighter just
thinking about it. “His name is Davis, but he goes by any number of false
names. A real ‘Catch Me if You Can’ sort of asshole. He’s fixated on her, but
I can’t pick up his trail. He pops up in places where she tours, but other than
that, he doesn’t leave a trace. I’ve found tickets purchased under his alias for
each of her shows. Every. Fucking. Show.”
“Sounds like a fan.” He sniffs.
“Could be. Sure. But he seems to be intentionally covering his tracks. And
more than that, he was in attendance at the show in Vegas, too, under another
alias.” I drop my voice even lower. This isn’t something I want Fiona to
worry about. “I’ve also found records of gun purchases under his social,
several weapons over the past few years. All in different states. He’s amassed
an arsenal.”
“So you think it’s this Davis guy?”
“I can’t say for certain, but I have a gut feeling this is our guy.” My gut isn’t
leading me wrong, but finding this asshole is proving far more difficult than I
expected. He’s slippery, like he knows I’m looking for him.
“Okay then, take him out and bring Fiona back.”
“Not so easy. Like I said, he goes to ground. I’ve got my contacts tracking
him, but until I put him in the ground, it’s not safe for Fiona to perform in
Vegas. Your security isn’t tight enough to keep this guy out.”
“You don’t call the shots here, Cyrus. I do.” His tone darkens. “I’ll give you
one more week. That’s it. One more week to smoke this guy out and deal
with him. After that, I’m coming to claim my investment.” He pauses, then
adds, “I’ve spent plenty of time in Napa. I even have a house there. So don’t
think for one fucking second I don’t know right where you are. If you haven’t
gotten it done in one week from today, I’m coming to get Fiona, and I won’t
be alone.”
I bristle. He’s not laying a finger on Fiona, and she isn’t going back to
perform in Vegas unless she wants to. But I need to pick my battles. Right
now, my focus is on finding Davis Lockette and removing his head from his
body. I’ll deal with Frankie afterwards.
“Cyrus?” he asks.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, you went quiet so I thought maybe you’d hung u—whatever, you heard
me. One week. That’s it.” He ends the call.
Frankie can talk tough all he wants, but if he shows up here without an
invitation and tries to take Fiona, I’ll bury him right along with Davis.
Fiona pops her head in the door. “Hey, you ready?”
“Yeah.” I pocket my phone and follow her to the back of the house.
“I’ve been wanting to talk about something with you.” She pulls on her boots
as I grab mine and do the same.
“Like what?” I reach over and redo her laces. She never ties them tight
enough for my liking.
She arches a brow as I rework the laces.
“What? You could get calluses or a blister.” I shake my head. Not on my
fucking watch.
“Anywaaaaay.” She tosses her hair in that sassy, cute way of hers. “I wanted
to talk to you about me performing.”
“You performed just fine this morning.” I finish her laces then kiss her.
“Loud enough that Linden sent me a rude text about it.”
She smacks my chest. “No, not that. I mean, I want to do a performance
here.”
“Huh?” I open the door for her, and we walk toward the stables. “You and
Winston do a song and dance every morning, sometimes at lunch, and then
again at dinner.”
She turns and grabs my arms, then feels my biceps. “It’s like you have a hard
scoop of potatoes or something under here—wait, focus.” She shakes her
head and drops her hands. “I mean I want to do a concert here at the
vineyard. A benefit concert.”
“Who are you benefiting?”
Her cheeks start to turn pink and she looks down. “Well, I already discussed
it with Linden and Winston, and they think it’s a great idea, so they’ve
already started sending out press packets and—”
“What?” I tilt her chin up so she meets my gaze.
“A concert to raise money for the vines and to get more visibility for the
Blake Winery!” She smiles big. “I wanted to bring it up, but I knew you’d
say no, so I figured it’s better to ask for—”
“Forgiveness than permission.” I finish for her. “I use that line on Winston all
the time.”
“And now I’ve used it on you.” She gives me a sly smile. “Benefit concert,
this weekend, kind of small, but enough press to make it seem big. Okay,
glad we got that sorted out. Now let’s go ride.” She tries to walk past me, and
I grab her and haul her over my shoulder.
“Cy!” She cries as I reach up and smack her tight ass.
“You’ve been bad, baby.” I smack it again as I carry her to the stables.
“Cy!” She wriggles, and I smack her taut little ass again. “It’s a good idea!”
“I don’t disagree.” I don’t particularly like her going onstage right now, but if
she’s in my back yard, she’ll be safe. I smack her ass again, and she yowls.
“But next time, you tell me first.” I pull her off my shoulder and pin her to
the side of the stables. “Got it?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“Good. Now let’s get the horses.” I kiss her hard. “And when we get to the
far vineyard, I’m going to ride you so rough you’ll think twice before hiding
anything from me ever again.”
She bites her lip, a twinkle in her eyes. “Race you there.”
16
Fiona

I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. It’s not often I get nervous before a
show. I think the last time was when I performed at the Super Bowl. This isn't
even a giant crowd. But this time I know that it really means something. That
I’m not only going out there to prance around and sing but to help a cause.
Plus, there’s the added fact that Cy will be watching me.
“You okay, beautiful?” Cy asks, coming up behind me. He wraps his arms
around me, pulling me into him. He drops kisses on my neck. It's something
he always does, and each time, excitement bubbles up inside of me.
“Yes,” I turn in his arms. “Want to help me pick out what I’m going to
wear?” I should know better than to ask him that. If it were up to him, I’d be
wearing a burlap sack that covered every single inch of me.
“I’m not so sure you’d like what I’d pick. I’ll have every inch of you
covered,” he says, echoing my thoughts and making me laugh. Tonight is
more than a benefit for the vineyard and spreading the word. I have a special
surprise for Cy planned that I’ve been working on over the past five days.
Keep it under your hat, but I’ve secretly been writing a song for him. Some
might say it’s too fast, but it’s how I’m going to tell him I love him.
“I’ll see what I can do, but I’m thinking I’ll have an outfit for the party and
one for performing.” I start to drop my hands from around his neck, but he
doesn't let me go.
“I don’t want you to think you have to perform. I—” I reach up, covering his
mouth with my hand. I know where this is going.
“This was my idea. I know you’re not using me, Cy. In fact. I’m using you.” I
smirk. He licks the palm of my hand right before I lower it. “For sex,
obviously.”
“Then you should use me right now.” He grabs my ass and lifts me off my
feet. I burst into laughter as he heads toward the bedroom.
“Don’t even think about it!” Winston says as he walks in. “We have a million
and one things to get done.”
I wiggle in Cy’s hold. I can tell he doesn't want to let me down, but he does.
“Rain check.” I drop a quick kiss on his mouth. A deep growl rumbles from
within him.
“I need a cold shower.” He acts like we didn’t have sex a couple hours ago. I
jump and let out a small scream when he smacks my ass before heading into
the bathroom.
Winston is already going through the clothes hanging on the rack. “I like this
one.” He holds up a pink dress. The top is covered in jewels while the bottom
is a puffy tulle.
“All right.” I take it from him and lay it on the bed for later. Winston and I
start going over everything. We have three hours before the guests will start
to arrive. Everyone I’d sent out invites to is coming. I was a little shocked,
especially with it being such a last-minute thing. Of course, I knew the press
would come no matter what.
“Did the step and repeat come?” I ask, continuing to go down my list of
things that need to get done.
“Yes. It’s a perfect backdrop for the event. Linden made me take a million
pictures of him in front of it.” Winston rolls his eyes. I hold in a laugh. I
notice I’ve been doing that so much lately. My smiles and laughter are never
forced here. I know I’m supposed to be in hiding, but I’ve never felt so free
in my life. Is it terrible that I hope we never find my stalker? And that I’ll
have to stay here forever?
We spend the next hour making sure everything is being set up according to
plan. I do a test on the small stage we had constructed to make sure all the
mics and sound equipment work properly. Kenny, one of the lead stage hands
from Vegas, is here and helping out with lighting. He tests everything as I do
one complete run-through, getting a feel for the stage.
“Looks okay?” I yell to Kenny in the booth.
He gives me a thumbs-up.
“Are we forgetting something?” I ask Winston as I jump off the stage.
“Nah, I think we’re good. I should probably check on Cyrus. I think he’s
scaring people with his security. He’s protective of you. He almost
disemboweled poor Kenny when he showed up.”
My face flushes. “It’s his job to protect me.”
“Sure. That’s what it is. Just his job. That’s why he phoned Kenny’s last four
employers and his parents to make sure he’s not your stalker.” He laughs.
“He’s just thorough.” Poor Kenny.
His phone goes off. “Oh, looks like your makeup girl is here.”
“I guess it’s time to get this show rolling.” I head inside to look for Becca.
I’m almost to the foyer when someone grabs me and drags me into the sitting
room.
17
Cyrus

K enny watches me with nothing short of trepidation as I stalk around his

sound booth. When I step inside, he backs against the panel.
“Don’t fucking move.” I search the area, looking for weapons.
“I’m not, um, I’m not hiding anything.” His voice trembles.
I glower down at him. “That’s exactly what someone who is hiding
something would say.”
He swallows hard as I search beneath the audio panel. I come up empty. I
would pat him down, but there’s no fucking chance he’s stowed anything in
his skinny jeans.
“Dude, you questioned my mom. My mom.” He shakes his head. “I’m not a
stalker. I was backstage when the person started shooting. It’s not me.”
I grip his shirt in my fist, and he makes a squeaking noise. “I want you to
keep an eye out at all times, understand? If you see one fucking thing, you
tell me. Got it?”
He nods, his dirty blond hair falling in his eyes. “So we’re like partners?
Detectives? I’m your Watson and you’re my—”
“Fuck off.” I step back. “Just be vigilant.” When I turn to leave, Winston is
trying and failing to hide his laugh behind his hand.
“Jesus, did he piss himself?” he snorts.
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter.” I have this itchy feeling that something’s not right.
I can’t explain it. I’ve checked and re-checked the guest list. Over and over,
I’ve run the backgrounds and checked with my underworld contacts on all the
men Fiona’s come in contact with since she first started her career. Hell, I
even went back further than that. Her high school admirers are clear.
Everyone I’ve been able to research has come out clean as far as she’s
concerned. It’s eating at me, because I know her stalker is close. I can feel it;
I just can’t see him.
“She’s safe. All right?” Winston punches me in the shoulder. “You’re here.
Nothing to worry about.”
“I guess.” I walk the stage one more time, checking all the spots where
someone might try to hide or stow a weapon. Nothing. I have guys stationed
all around the property, security everywhere. I want Fiona to feel safe while
she works her magic.
“Can’t you just enjoy tonight? She’s going to shine like a superstar. Watch
her and have a good time. She’s doing this for you, after all.” Winston
surveys the stage and the area on the back lawn for the small crowd. “She’s
safe.”
“I know.” I’ll protect her. No question. But I still haven’t nailed the creep
who’s been after her.
Winston sighs. “You’ll get him. It’s only a matter of time. And then we’ll
keep our singing princess here at the vineyard and make fine wines and—
Oh!” His eyebrows pop. “I could be an uncle! I’d be the absolute best uncle
ever. Oh my gosh, just think of it.”
“All right. Enough.” Honestly, the thought of Fiona carrying my child is
fucking exciting, but I can’t dare to hope for that. Not when she’s a superstar
and I’m just a vintner-turned-Vegas-muscle.
“Where is she?” I ask once I’m satisfied with the stage security.
“Makeup,” Winston says. “Getting all prettied up with that Becca.”
“Becca’s here?” Kenny strides up but stays well back from me. “I didn’t
know she was coming. We could’ve traveled here together.” He frowns.
“Maybe she’s just not that into you.” Winston shrugs.
“Guess not.” Kenny takes his dejected ass back to the booth.
I head inside to get one more taste of my songstress before she hits the stage,
but I stop when I hear voices in the sitting room.
“—back where you belong. I’ve arranged for you to leave after this silly little
show.” It’s Frankie.
“It’s not silly, and I’m staying here. I belong here!” Fiona’s voice is strong.
I bristle as I burst into the sitting room. “The fuck is going on?”
“I’m here for my investment. It doesn’t concern you, Cyrus. Your
employment is terminated, and you can say goodbye to your payment,” he
snaps. “You’ll be doing shit work for the rest of your life to try and make up
for the money you lost on this deal.”
Fiona hurries to me, and I take her under my arm. “Did he hurt you?” I ask.
“No.” She shakes her head.
“Did he touch you?”
She doesn’t answer, and Frankie’s pissed-off expression starts to fade as I
glare at him.
“You touched my girl?” I step toward him.
“I didn’t hurt her.” He backs away.
“You never put your hands on her. Never.” I stride to him and grab him as he
tries to cower against the wall. “She’s done with you. If she wants to come
back to Vegas, it’ll be on her own terms.”
“We have a contract that she can’t get—”
“I’ll ram that contract so far up your ass you’ll be tasting clauses and
wherefores for the rest of your fucking life. Understand?” I shake him like a
ragdoll.
He lets out a little scream. “I understand!”
“Now get the fuck out of here. You’re trespassing.” I shove him back, and he
almost tumbles to the floor.
He stops. “You’re done in Vegas, Cyrus. Fucking done! And if you think I’m
just going to walk away from . . .” His voice fades as I reach into my pocket
and pull out my black gloves.
I slip the first one on, never breaking eye contact as I do it. “I warned you,
Frankie.” I slide on the second one, then crack my knuckles, the leather
flexing like a second skin.
Frankie pales, then turns toward the door and runs into the hall and out
through the front door.
“Come here.” I open my arms for Fiona, and she runs into them.
“Thank you.” She wraps her arms around me as I hold her. “I mean, I was
going to cancel the contract anyway, but I like the way you did it better.”
I smirk. “My way is a little more permanent, I think.”
She nods against me. “Frankie won’t be back.”
“Nope.” I kiss her crown.
“Are you upset about the money?”
“Money?” I ask.
“That you lost. You know, for protecting me.” She looks up, her eyes so
beautiful just like her soul.
“Not even a little bit.” I kiss her mouth, tasting her and promising her that
she’s far more valuable than any amount of money. She’s it for me.
When I break the kiss, she smiles up at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “I should
go. Makeup.”
“Fine.” I kiss her once more. “Get dolled up. I’ll be around. You’re safe.”
“I know. I’m always safe when you’re here.”
“Count on it.” I kiss her forehead, then lead her into the foyer.
Becca is at the door waiting, a smile on her face as she sees Fiona.
“I’ll leave her in your capable hands.” I pat Fiona on the butt and send her to
Becca.
“Girl, you’re glowing!” Becca exclaims as Fiona leads her up the stairs to our
room. “I’m so excited to work with you on this benefit concert. Kenny and I
have been talking about it all week!”
“All week?” I ask.
Becca nods and hugs Fiona.
I turn, my gloved hands ready to go to work. Kenny lied to me. He said he
hadn’t spoken to Fiona. It was Kenny all along.
18
Fiona

Becca’s all dolled up like normal. She eyes one of the security team as he
passes us on the stairs.
“You’ve been MIA,” Becca says as she follows me.
“Thank you for coming out.”
“Who would miss a party like this? Not me. That’s never happening.” She
laughs, always ready for a good time. “Kenny and I have been dishing about
this for days. Where are we headed?” She eyes the massive chandelier.
“My room,” I say over my shoulder.
“Your room?” She arches a perfectly drawn brow. “Are you living here
now?”
“No, I just mean where I’ve been staying.” I stumble over my words.
Saying I live in Vegas now sounds so wrong. I should call my agent and see
about cancelling my contract with Frankie for good. Just in case he tries to
pull something else.
Stop, I’m getting ahead of myself. Cy hasn't asked me to stay or move in.
After this benefit concert, I don’t think Cy is going to need Vegas anymore.
Our guest list is full of people willing to pay for my entertainment, and the
press is happy to schmooze at the vineyard and write puff pieces about what a
beautiful place this is. The vines Cy needs are within his reach.
“This place is hella nice.” Becca eyes everything as we make our way to my
room.
“Yeah, it’s a dream here.” I take a seat at the vanity chair in the bathroom.
Becca starts unpacking some of her stuff and setting it on the counter.
“So when are you going to be coming back?” She pulls my hair down from
the ponytail.
I shrug.
“We miss you out in Vegas.” She smiles at me in the mirror.
“I’m not sure.”
“Not sure?” She tsks. “Your fans are missing out.”
“They’ll be fine without me for a while.” Or maybe forever. That’s what this
place is starting to feel like for me. Forever.
“You seem like you’ve changed.” She twists my hair around her hand.
“Ow.” I wince.
She smiles tightly. “Too rough?”
“A little.”
“Is he rough with you?” Her eyes narrow.
“What?” I must be mis-hearing her.
“Did you sleep with him, Fiona? Did you let him touch you with his dirty
hands?” Her grip on my hair tightens even more.
“Becca.” I pull forward, but she doesn't release the hold she has on my hair.
“What—”
“You know who that man is, Fiona? The things he’s done? Then you let him
go and touch you?” She growls the last part, her voice changing, dropping
lower. “We’re going to have to get you clean now.” I scream when she yanks
me by my hair and pulls me to my feet. Her hand comes down over my
mouth.
“If I were you, I’d be quiet. I’d hate to have to kill your lover boy,” she hisses
next to my ear as she starts to drag me to the shower. I start to fight her
anyway, but she’s freakishly strong. “I didn't want to have to do this,” I hear
her say before I feel a needle press into my neck. Black spots begin dancing
in my eyes.
“Cyrus.” I call his name before darkness takes me.
19
Cyrus

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Linden jumps out of the way as I barrel past him
and a few of his early guests.
I don’t answer, just hurry down the back steps into the yard.
Kenny looks up from his place at the sound booth. “Hey, Sherlock. Watson
here at the ready to …” His words die in his throat as I reach over the sound
equipment, grab him, and yank him out of the booth and to the ground. He
screams as I pin him and rear back.
“Cy!” Winston hurries over. “The fuck you doing?”
“I thought we were a team!” Kenny screams at an ear-splitting pitch.
“You lied to me.” I put one hand at his throat as he claws at my wrist
ineffectually.
“What?”
I squeeze. “It was you all along.”
“Cy, he can’t breathe.” Winston taps my shoulder.
“That’s the idea,” I bark.
Kenny smacks my arm.
“Cy, come on. You checked him out. He’s clean, and his mom even sent
cookies.”
“They had raisins in them,” I growl.
“I mean, yeah, that’s a bad sign, but she made the effort.” Winston shakes my
shoulder. “Come on, let him breathe at least. We can’t have a murder when
the press is here.”
I don’t want to, but I loosen my hold just a hair.
Kenny gulps in air.
“I trusted you. I believed you. And all this time you’ve been terrorizing her.
You sick fuck.” I see red and want to pummel his head to a pulp.
Kenny shakes his head. “Not me. No.”
“Yes, fucking you. You lied. I caught you.”
“What lie?” he screeches.
Winston looks up as Linden starts to lead a few early VIP guests out the back
door of the house. “Oh, hang on!” he calls and rushes over. “Not quite ready
yet. Come on, let’s get some snacks, everyone.” He corrals Linden and the
others back inside.
“I didn’t lie to you.” Kenny’s eyes water.
“You said you hadn’t talked to Becca about this event. That’s what you
fucking told me.” I don’t know why I’m exercising restraint, but I am. “I
should snap your fucking neck.”
He blinks, confusion all over his face. “But I … I didn’t. We haven’t. I
haven’t even seen Becca since the last day of the show.”
I want to kill him, but I don’t. Because for some fucking reason, I want to
believe him. “Why would you lie about that, Kenny? What a stupid lie.”
“It’s not a lie. I swear. I never talked to her. I don’t know what’s going on.
Just please, don’t kill me. I’ll tell Mom no more raisins, I swear. I swear.”
He’s gasping now, even though I’m not squeezing his airway. “I’ll tell her
only chocolate chips from now on. Okay? Okay?” he cries.
Decision time. Snap his neck or believe him.
I stare down at him, my hands itching to do violence. But they don’t. I don’t.
“Fuck.” I sit back then stand.
He scoots away until he bumps into the sound booth. “Don’t kill me.”
“You’re safe.” I narrow my eyes on him. “For now.”
The problem is, if I believe him, then Becca is the liar. And why would she
lie?
I turn and walk to the house, then glance up to our bedroom window. The
light is on, and Becca is up there right now doing Fiona’s makeup. My
hackles rise, and my gut instinct kicks in.
Becca lied. Becca had access to Fiona’s dressing room, her whereabouts, her
everything at all fucking times. Becca. My stride turns into a jog as I run
down the hall and take the stairs two at a time.
Becca. It’s her. I didn’t check her background deeply enough, because I
thought she was a woman. Her makeup skills—fucking excellent. But she’s
not Becca. Not at all.
I burst into our bedroom and yell, “Davis!”
But the room is empty, the floor wet, and Fiona gone.
“No!” I rush back down the stairs. “Where the fuck is the makeup artist?” I
bark at the guards in the foyer.
One points out the front door. “She just left with a bag full of dresses.”
“A bag full of dresses? You let her go?” I yell. “If you’re here when I get
back, you’re dead.” I mean every word as I sprint out the front door.
I see Becca up ahead. She’s closing the trunk on her rental car.
Before I can even think about what I’m doing, I run full speed at her. She
pulls a gun and fires a shot. I barely feel a sting in my arm as I tackle her,
taking her to the gravel driveway and pinning her with my forearm against
her windpipe.
She yells—a low, masculine sound—and her wig comes off with the impact.
“Davis.” I press harder on his windpipe.
“She’s mine. Mine!” He brings the pistol up, and I wrestle it from his grip,
then turn the barrel on him. “I’ll fucking kill her before I’ll let you have her!”
“She was never yours,” I say and pull the trigger.
20
Fiona

“Baby. Open those beautiful eyes for me.”

I let out a sigh, trying to roll over to wrap myself around Cyrus, but he stops
me from moving.
“She’s awake?” I hear Winston say. I try to open my eyes, but they feel so
heavy.
“Fiona. Please.” His fingers run up and down my jaw.
“I like when you call me baby,” I try to say, but it comes out mumbled.
“Baby,” he says again, making me smile. “Open for me.”
“Usually you mean my thighs when you say that.” I open my eyes finally.
Cyrus is leaning over me, and he’s all I can see.
“Should I leave?” Winston chuckles.
My face heats when I realize what I’d just said. Out loud.
“Why is everyone in our room?” I whisper.
I try to look down to make sure I’m dressed. I normally sleep naked. Then
again, I’m not sure why I’m checking. It’s not as if Cyrus would allow
anyone in the room if I were naked.
“What do you remember?” Cyrus asks, not answering my question.
“Why am I wet?” I try to sit up, but a dizzy spell hits me, causing me to lie
back down.
“Take it easy. You need to rest.” Cyrus helps me slowly sit up. It’s then I
realize I’m in the office, and that it’s not only Winston who’s in the room
with us. There are a handful of people with worried expressions on their
faces. It’s then that the memories of what happened hit me.
“Becca. She’s a man!” I gasp and grab the front of Cyrus’s shirt.
He flinches at my sudden hold on him. “It’s been handled. You don’t have to
worry about Davis anymore.”
Davis? The name doesn't sound familiar. “What is this?” I ask, reaching my
fingers out to touch his shoulder where I see blood.
“Nothing.” He dismisses my question. “How are you feeling?” He tries to
distract me by asking his own. But I’m not going to let him continue to
sidestep my questions. I want answers.
“Cyrus! Why are you bleeding?”
“He was shot.” Winston answers for him.
My mouth falls open.
Cyrus sends his brother a death glare.
“It’s only a graze. I have a doctor on the way to look you over.”
“Me?” Panic sends my voice up to Mariah Carey levels. “You’re the one
that’s been shot!”
“Can you give us the room?” Cyrus says, not taking his eyes off of me.
Everyone shuffles out of the office, leaving us alone.
Cyrus grabs my face with both hands and kisses me hard. I part my lips for
him as he deepens the kiss.
“I’m okay,” I try to reassure him when we break away from the kiss. “I knew
you’d save me.”
“I almost lost you.” His eyes glisten just the faintest bit.
My heart thaws into a pile of mush. I mean, let’s be honest, I was already soft
for this big, tough man of mine. “I’m not going anywhere, Cyrus.”
“What about Vegas? Touring?” His eyes search my face. “I’d come with
you.”
My own eyes fill with tears that he would be willing to do that for me. That
he just wants to be with me and nothing more.
“Well, I could be convinced to never go back to Vegas. You know if
someone were to make me a better offer. One I can’t refuse.” I lick my lips,
still tasting him there.
“You’ll stay.” It doesn't sound as if he’s asking at all, which makes me laugh.
“I love that idea.” I lean into him. “And I love you too, Cyrus.”
He closes his eyes and drops his forehead to mine. Being here with him feels
right. As if it is where I was always meant to be.
“Say it again.” His words come out thick with emotion.
“I love you.”
“I love you too. So much it scares the hell out of me.”
My insides warm.
“You’re the first person to ever say that to me without wanting something.”
He grabs me, pulling me into his lap.
“Hey!” I yelp. “Your shoulder!”
He ignores my protest. “I do want something. You.”
“Just me.” I lean down to kiss him, but Winston comes bursting back into the
room.
“The show must go on,” he announces.
Cyrus lets out a growl. “She’s not performing tonight.”
“I most certainly am.” I raise my chin, putting my hands on my hips.
“Everyone will be here in what, an hour? Plenty of time. I feel fine.
Seriously, Cyrus,” I plead with him. “I want to do this. Isn't this my home
now too?”
“And there it is. She got him,” Winston says from behind me.
I shoot him a glare. He’s going to mess this up for us. He raises his hands and
steps back.
“We’ll see what the doctor says,” Cyrus hedges.
“Fine,” I agree. “But you’re getting looked at too.”
“Deal.” He stands with me in his arms.
“Cyrus.” I try to wiggle free but get nowhere.
“Send the doctor up when she gets here.” He carries me up the stairs. “And
why are you wet? What part of Davis’s plan was that?”
I’m not sure he wants the answer to that question.
“Fiona.”
“She said she had to get me clean. Or he. I don’t know what that was about. I
mean, I don’t think he was trans or anything. I think he was just—”
“Dressing up like a woman to get close to you,” he finishes for me. “Yeah, I
already had a lead on him, but I didn’t realize how far he’d go to get into
your inner circle. YouTube makeup tutorials are a hell of a drug.”
“Try Tik-Tok ones. There are some amazing products.” I smile.
“Stop trying to distract me, baby. I want to know exactly what happened. He
wanted you clean?”
“He said that letting you touch me had dirtied me up.”
Cyrus’s body goes stiff.
“I’m fine. He just shoved me in the shower like a psycho. Davis. Not Becca.”
This whole thing is so confusing. “This whole time I really thought … I
mean, it was convincing!” I do have to admit one thing: for as crazy as this
Davis person is, he has crazy skills when it comes to makeup.
“Yeah, it was.” He sits me down on the bed then helps me get out of my wet
clothes before bringing me a robe to put on. A knock sounds at the door.
“Doc?” Cyrus calls.
“Guilty as charged,” a woman calls through the door.
“Come in,” Cyrus says.
The door opens, and a woman wearing scrubs who I’m assuming is the
doctor walks in.
“Fiona. It’s nice to meet you.” The doctor holds her hand out. “I’m Dr.
Spears.”
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” I say before she starts to check me over
as I tell her what happened. My main worry being about whatever it was I got
injected with.
“We can run your blood to see what he gave you.”
“Please.” I bite my lip for a moment then try to casually gesture toward
Cyrus.
“Is there something else you wanted to ask me?” Dr. Spears puts her
stethoscope back around her neck.
“I could be pregnant,” I blurt. “I worry that whatever it is could hurt the baby
if I am.”
Cyrus sucks in a breath. I see him pull out his phone.
“You are rather early, are you not?” Dr. Spears peers at my flat stomach.
“Yes. I’d be very early.”
“It was Propofol,” Cyrus says and pockets his phone. “He had it on him.”
“That should be more than okay then.” She looks over to Cyrus. “Can I see
your shoulder?”
“Yeah.” He pulls off his shirt, and I remind myself she’s a doctor. She pulls
some things from her bag to clean up the wound before putting some
bandages on it.
“I’m okay to perform tonight, aren't I? I’m only doing a few songs.” The
doctor looks over at Cyrus. “Don’t look at him; he’ll get you to say that I’m
not.” I step in front of him, making her laugh. Cyrus wraps his arm around
me from behind, pulling me against him until my back hits his chest.
“I think it should be fine.”
“Why don’t you stay? I think you being here might help Cyrus relax some.”
A smile lights up her face. “I’d love that. I’m a huge fan. Luckily, I have a
change of clothes in the car.”
“Perfect.”
Cyrus sees her out of our bedroom then returns to me. “Pregnant?” His hand
comes to my neck, resting there.
“Maybe. We haven't been the safest.”
He nods.
“To be honest, I think subconsciously we did it on purpose.”
He gives me a sheepish look.
“We both knew that me getting pregnant was a sure way for me to stay here.”
“Baby.”
I put my hand over his mouth. “I did it too.”
He kisses my palm before I drop my hand.
I run my fingers down his chest. “Do we have a little time?” I go for the
button on his jeans. I can see the battle inside of him. “Make love to me,
Cyrus.” I say, knowing that will get him.
“I love you.” He pulls on the belt of my robe, making it fall open.
“And I love you.” He kisses me, taking me down to the bed to make love to
me.
Some girls dream of being a pop star. Others dream of having a family of
their own. I was somehow lucky enough to have both. My career led me to
Cyrus, and for that I will always be grateful.
Epilogue
Cyrus

I toss a couple of water bottles into the basket as I stare into the refrigerator.
Then I grab the container of grapes and a mix of cheeses before I throw some
crackers in as well. I close the door and look around the kitchen, trying to
decide if there is anything else she might need. I open the drawer where she
keeps her secret stash of candy bars and toss a few of those in too.
“You trying to get into the doghouse? She may love you, but that won’t
matter when it comes to the hidden stash,” Winston says as he walks into the
kitchen. He doesn't limp at all anymore. Time really has healed all of us in
one way or another. Fiona was like a balm to this place, one I didn't know we
needed until she was here.
“It’s for her.” There is no fucking way I’d steal her candy. I think stealing
food from a pregnant woman might be grounds for divorce. Not that I’d let
her ever divorce me. I’d tie her to the bed and exhaust her with orgasms until
she changed her mind.
“Going on a picnic?” He smirks. “When did you turn into a romantic?”
The day I met Fiona. No one has ever knocked me on my ass before. Until
her. When those elevator doors slid open, I knew my life was about to
change. I tried to fight it at first, but there was no denying the pull to her.
“Don’t be jealous that I know how to take care of my woman.” I close the
picnic basket. “You should find someone.”
He shrugs, picking up an apple and taking a bite. “That’s interesting.” He
takes another bite of his apple, and I know he’s baiting me.
“What’s interesting? I have to get to Fiona. She’s waiting for me outside.” I
wonder if the sun is too hot for her to be out there. She’s only a few months
pregnant. I don’t remember reading about getting too hot in any of the books.
“It looked to me like Jesse was out there helping your woman.” He shrugs
innocently. “That’s all.”
I grab the basket and take off out the back door. That little shit is going to get
it. He’s new and too fucking wet behind the ears.
How can he not see the ring on her finger? I’d gotten the biggest one I could
without it looking ridiculous, all so it would be obvious she belonged to me.
That little asshole knows she’s mine. Everyone around here knows that. Yet
he’s always trying to sneak a peek. Fiona says I’m being ridiculous, but I’m
on to that little punk.
I round the corner of one of the barns, and I hear Fiona's sweet laugh, which
only fuels my jealousy more. Those laughs are mine. I know I sound like a
child throwing a tantrum, but I don't care.
Jesse lifts his eyes that were on my wife’s ass when he spots me. He jumps
back a few feet from Fiona, trying to act as if he wasn’t doing anything
wrong. She’s bent over as she looks inside a short barrel. My cock instantly
gets hard looking at the ripe peach that’s on full display.
I place the basket on the ground before I head toward them. I don’t say a
word, instead I grab Jesse around the collar of his shirt and pull him out of
the barn. He doesn't fight me as I hold him up as if he were a ragdoll.
“Cyrus! Put him down. He was only helping me.”
“I don’t think you need help checking out your ass. I’ve got that covered.”
“I wasn't, I swear! I was trying to see how full the barrel was.”
I give him a push, letting him go. He stumbles back, falling on his ass.
“Don’t.” Fiona wraps her hand around my arm, knowing I won’t try and
shake her off. “Jesse!” She snips at him. “Run.”
“Right.” He scrambles to his feet and takes off. Fiona's body shakes, and I
know she’s trying to hold in a laugh. Thank fuck she thinks my jealousy is
funny, or we might have problems. I silence her laughter by claiming her
mouth in a possessive kiss, making sure she remembers who she belongs to.
When I break away, her lips are puffy as she tries to catch her breath.
“You’re a caveman.” She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. I get it. Men are
drawn to Fiona. It’s not only her beauty, it’s also that sweet innocence that
surrounds her. It's all mine. It washes away all of my sins from Vegas, only
leaving her.
It took some time, but I’ve come to the realization that the vineyard going up
in flames is the reason I have Fiona. I’d burn this place to the ground myself
to keep her. But I don’t have to. She loves it here. She’s always trying to
work the vines and be a part of the team. I don’t know how I got so lucky
with her.
“This for me?” She points to the basket.
“Yeah.” I grab it from off the ground.
“You remember the movie Pretty Woman?” She asks me as she strolls back
into the barn. My eyes go to the sway of her ass. I can’t blame Jesse, but that
doesn’t mean I won’t kill him. This vineyard has a lot of land, and people go
missing all the time.
“Yes.” I think we watched that one a few weeks ago.
“Well, it gave me an idea.” She points down at the large barrel that I see is
filled with grapes. “I mean, I don’t think anyone will want to drink it, but it
might be fun.”
I drop the basket and grab her, lifting her off her feet. She kicks her shoes off
before I set her inside the barrel.
“I’ll drink it.”
She lets out a giggle. “It feels weird. Squishy.” She starts to wiggle around
more, making her tits bounce. “Aren't you going to join me?”
“I’d join you anywhere.” I pull off my shoes and socks, then jump in the
barrel with her.
“Isn't it weird?”
I nod. “Feels like slime.”
“This is the way they used to make wine. Can you believe it?” She slips, and
I grab her, catching her before she can fall. She smiles up at me, brightening
my world the same way she has every day since I’ve met her.
“Always saving me.”
She saved me, too. Me, the vineyard, everything.
“Till I take my last breath,” I say before I claim her mouth again, sealing that
promise with a kiss.
Epilogue II
Fiona

“Britney Mariah Blake!” I yell from my spot beneath an apple tree at the edge
of the back yard.
She comes riding up the vineyard, her hair glowing blond in the sun as she
pats Dolly on the neck. “Good girl.”
“Don’t run her too hard,” I scold. “She’s not as young as she used to be.”
“She’s fine.” Britney dismounts and strides over to me.
“Where’s Carey?” I resume, humming one of my favorite songs from my
new album. It’s an indie release, a more instrumental mix of music where my
voice is front and center instead of mixed with pop synth sounds. I kind of
love it.
“He’s catching up.” She sits next to me and lets Dolly graze a little. “I love
that one. Is it the one about Dad?”
“Dad saving my life, yep.”
“From the crazy makeup guy?” she asks.
“Who told you about that?”
She shrugs. “Uncle Winston tells the best stories.”
“Well, the song is sort of about that, but more about how he saved me with
his love. How he wanted me for me, not because I had money or fame.”
“Can we skip the mushy stuff?” She arches a brow.
“The mushy stuff is the only reason you’re here, you know?”
“Ugh, Mom.” She groans.
“Anyway, maybe you should go find Carey. He’s too young for you to leave
him behind.”
“He should’ve thought of that before throwing creek mud at me.” She points
to a splatter on her shirt.
I try not to laugh when I notice she has another smudge of mud under her
jaw. “You two have to stop fighting long enough to take care of your little
sister.” I rub my swollen belly.
“I’ll teach her how to fight. Don’t worry.” She lies back, her twelve-year-old
body oddly lanky and long.
Soon enough, she’ll get boobs and an even bigger attitude. A little me and a
lot Cyrus, she’s going to give the world one hell of a run for its money.
“Hey, not so close to the—Ow!” Carey appears and slaps away an apple tree
branch as his mare brings him just under it. “You did that on purpose!”
Britney and I both laugh as he jumps down and gives the horse a wounded
glare. He’s nine, and more or less is just dirt and danger wrapped in more
dirt.
“Got any juice boxes?” he asks as he throws himself to the ground at my feet.
“There.” I point to the little red cooler Cyrus brought out here for me.
“Cool.” He grabs two from the cooler.
Britney holds out her hand for one.
I watch as he pulls the straws from both and puts them in, then starts to hand
one to her before putting both straws in his mouth and drinking them down.
“Carey!” She punches him in the thigh.
He spews juice everywhere.
I roll my eyes. “But why?”
“Guys, give Mom a break.” Cyrus’s deep voice cuts through everything, and
I feel his hands on me, helping me to my feet.
“Let them fight.” I shrug. “Maybe only one will survive and we’ll have one
less mouth to feed.”
Cyrus smirks. “That bad, huh?”
I rub my lower back. “They’re fine. I’m just sore.”
“Sorry, Mom,” they both call as Britney grabs a fresh juice box.
Cyrus leads me into the house, the cool interior so nice on my skin. “Better?”
he asks.
“Much better.” I yawn.
“Come on.” He scoops me into his arms.
I’m too tired to protest as he carries me up to our room and lays me on our
bed.
“She’ll be here soon.” I peer at the baby bump.
“I can’t wait to meet her.” He pulls off my shoes and rubs my feet as my eyes
flutter closed.
“I hope she’s tough like you,” I say drowsily. “And sassy like Britney. Loyal
like Carey.”
“Maybe we’ll finally get one who can sing like you,” he says wryly.
I snort just thinking about how music lessons with Britney and Carey went.
In a word—disaster.
“Maybe so.” I yawn again. “If we get another one who sings like you, I’m
going to have to demand a refund from the stork.”
“Harsh.” He laughs and crawls into bed beside me, snuggling me against him
as I drift off to sleep.
“I love you so much, baby.” He kisses my forehead.
“You love me for me,” I say.
“The sex isn’t bad either.”
I giggle and then drift off to sleep, dreaming of our family, our future, and the
love that built it all.

More MINK is on the way!

Next up: A case of amnesia, a fluffy cat, and a handsome man who claims
he’s yours, all yours.

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Also by MINK
His Clever Kitten

She intrigues me, this walking conundrum of a woman. A kitten sweatshirt, big glasses, and a trusting
nature—she’s practically catnip for a man like me. So much so that I let her kidnap me at gunpoint.
Instead of demanding money, she tells me of her troubles with a local mafia family. The Lucenzios
want protection money from her, and if she refuses to pay, they’ll wreck her brand new kitty store,
Pawsitively Perfect.
Lucky for Maddy, I happen to be at war with the Lucenzios, and I’ll happily destroy anyone who dares
tread on Maddy’s business or her heart. She needs protection. So much so that I find it best to keep her
close. Very close. In my bed and in my heart, my clever kitten has dug in her claws. And maybe I like it
that way.
Besides, I have no choice but to love her. After all, she took me hostage from the moment I saw her.
His to Keep
A bodyguard’s work is never done, especially when you’re protecting a girl like Cara. For months she’s
teased me, showing me glimpses of skin and flaunting her innocence. I’m a hard man, one who has a
job to do. Bringing down Cara’s father and his crime syndicate is why I’m here.
It should be the only reason I’m here.
It’s not.
I’m here for Cara, and I’ve wanted her since the day I was first assigned to her protection detail.
Claiming her was never an option, not when my plans always ended with her father’s death.
But the more I see of the sheltered girl with the innocent eyes, the more I think she belongs by my side.
Even if it goes against my family’s plans, I intend to make Cara my bride and my queen.
And if anyone gets in the way of my love for Cara? Well, like I said, I’m a hard man, one who doesn’t
mind getting blood on his hands for the woman he loves.

119 Kitty Lane

MINK takes a trip to Cherry Falls in this sweet romance.

Starting my new life in Rosewood Ranch is easily the best decision I’ve ever made. New friends, new
job, new everything. But by far the very best part of it all is meeting Amethsyt. She puts the Cherry in
Cherry Falls, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get her out of my mind … or heart.
She’s too young for me. Too pure. She doesn’t know about my past. But even though I can throw
reason after reason out there for why we can’t be together, I can’t stop myself from claiming her as
mine. She’s not meant for a rough man like me, but that won’t stop me.
 I’ll protect her from this world, allow her to grow and flourish the way she deserves. That’s my plan.
Until she’s taken from me. Until I find out her father’s plans for her. . . But I’ll always find my sweet
Amethyst, always keep her safe.
And heaven help anyone, including her own father, who tries to steal her from me.

Santa Material

Am I obsessed with my neighbor? Yes. Mac is a huge bear of a man, one with bright eyes and big
hands--a man that you can't help but drool over. He's so kind, always asking me if I want help with my
projects around the house. Maybe I'll spend this Christmas in his arms, cuddled by a fire.
At least, that would've happened if I didn't ... accidentally ... kill Santa Claus.
Look, I know how it sounds. But it was an accident! Now, it's up to me to save Christmas, and I have to
find the right person to take the Big Guy's place. A man with a kind heart, a giving soul, and a laugh
that can warm even the chilliest of grinches. A man like ... Mac. But can I give up the only man I've
ever loved to save Christmas, or will I keep him to myself no matter the cost?

Taming His Bride

I’ve been chasing stories from the first moment I could ask questions. When I started my own
investigative blog, I pulled stories straight from the headlines and dove deeper to discover the truth
behind the circumstances. None more so than in the case of the missing mafia prince, the very first
investigation I undertook from the warmth and safety of my teenage bedroom.
Then I grew up and got mixed up in a whole lot more than musings on missing kingpins. I followed the
story of a maligned pop princess and wound up at the lodge—a hidden safe house for bad men with
dark pasts. When I met the growly Tiernan, I knew I’d be in for the story of my life. The more I get to
know him, the more I realize how much I’ve been missing one aspect of my own story—romance. He
brings it and so much more, his gruff ways and soft touches melting me until I’m hopeless for him.
But when some of the people I’ve exposed on my blog come calling, I’ll have to rely on more than his
soft side if I want to survive.

Stealing His Bride

I can take care of myself. I always have. For that matter, I’ve also taken care of my best friends Aurora
and Clover. Keeping them safe has landed me with a concussion after our car accident thanks to a
wayward lynx.
On top of that, I seem to have landed in a handsome man’s bed. Not just any man, Barrow attends to all
my needs and never wants to leave my side. He’s big, brawny, and possessive, and I find myself falling
for him more by the minute. The lodge is a safe haven that I’m quickly wanting to call home. But my
self doubt creeps in ,and I start to think maybe I’m imagining Barrow’s attraction to me. After all,
Aurora’s the star of our group, not me.
But the more he dotes on me, compliments me, and gives me those heated looks I feel down to my toes,
the more I realize he’s genuine and that we could have a real future together.
 When I get a job offer that’s hard to turn down, will I choose love or life outside the lodge?

Claiming His Bride

Performing onstage in front of tens of thousands of fans is a rush, without a doubt. But one look from
Diego sends an even hotter thrill of excitement through my veins. He’s huge, a man of few words and
hungry eyes. No matter how much I try to get him to open up to me, he won’t. So, I have to change my
tactics.
This mountain lodge is full of mysterious men, and Diego is the one I’m desperate to solve. He’s madly
protective, but he won’t get close. Pushing him over the edge has become my main goal. I tempt him
with skimpy outfits and my signature chocolate cake.
My plan is going perfectly until my biggest fear comes true. I thought I would be safe out here in the
snowy wilderness with Diego. Was I wrong?

Knocking Up His Bride

It came out of nowhere. A huge cat in the middle of the road. We swerved to avoid it and crashed into a
snowy tree, ending our road trip early and stranding us far from the local town, in the middle of a
snowstorm with another on the way. How can a pop star, her assistant, and her best friend survive in a
snowy wilderness? Short answer is: they can’t.
But then *he* came out of nowhere. The big guy with the gruff voice and the sharp eyes. The eyes that
are always on me. I have to trust him, to accept his rescue of my friends and me, but the more I get to
know Charles, the more I realize I need him. Maybe we landed at the lodge with these mysterious
mountain men by accident, but Charles makes me believe it was good luck that brought us here.
Even though he’s vague about his past, his kisses are certain, and his gentle touches becomes addictive.
His love is all-consuming.
But when an old threat follows us to the lodge, Charles reveals his particular set of skills, deadly ones.
Can I accept the man who treats me so sweetly but can kill without a thought?

Under His Spell

A haunted house, a ghost story of lost love, and a brand new love blooming under a full moon. This
spooky sweet story is sure to get your blood racing for all the right reasons.

Beauty Tempts the Beast

Revenge is his life’s work, but when he finds his Beauty in the heart of an enemy, will he be up for a
career change?

Loan Shark’s Obsession

He knows priceless objects when he sees them. So when he sees her, he knows.
 His Stolen Bride
Her first husband never touched her. He’s dead. Now she belongs to Santino, and there will be much,
much touching.

His Stolen Princess

They were meant to be … until they weren’t. So, he steals her. Logical. Also, there’s a cat.

Stalking Her Sweetly

Who’s stalking whom?

Hitman’s Heart
He’s a badass who kills without remorse. She’s a good girl who gets caught in the crosshairs. He saves
her, but can he keep her?

His Secret Treasure

He says artifacts belong in a museum. She says he stole an ancient box that belongs to her. Can they
come to terms over her box?

My Hero’s Secret Baby

He’s a hero to her, the boogeyman to everyone else. Can they have a future together?

His Tiger Queen

She’s a princess in a heavily guarded tower. He’s the prince next door. Did I mention there’s also a pet
tiger?

His Virgin Heiress

She’s a thief. He keeps her safe. But can she give up jewel heists for love?

Cuffed Love
MINK’s personal favorite. Seriously. I love this book.

Stuffed
Stuffies, hitmen, true love, and accidental homicide? MINK at her finest.

His Sweetest Sin

He’s a priest, not a sinner … Until he sees her.

Locking Her Down

She broke into an animal shelter. He’s the only one who can help her, but this attorney knows what he
wants in return (hint: it’s not justice.)

Marco’s Girl
Marco is the bad boy prince of a mafia empire, but his heart is set on a darling good girl.

Pop-up Love
Mobsters, mayhem, a Hallmark movie, and a pop-up shop full of love? Yes.

Beauty and the Boss

She wants to bring her cat to work. He wants to bend her over his desk. Win-win.

His Virgin Queen

He killed her husband and took her for himself.

His Deadly Darling

She’s spicy. He’s determined. Together, they’re unstoppable.

Hitman’s Prey
He always seemed so nice … (and hot).

Snow Angel
She wants to beat him in the lights competition; he just wants her. This Christmas is lit.
About the Author

MINK writes sweet and salty romances that always satisfy with a happily
ever after.

www.MINKromance.com

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