Chapter 1

I'd been Nathan Hawthorne's carefully kept woman for ten years.

In the boardroom, we were the perfect team.

In bed, we were a perfect match.

But after we had sex that day, he took a slow drag from his cigarette and said, "I'm getting married."

"Congratulations," I said, utterly unbothered.

He thought I was playing games, trying to pull him back in. So he watched, waiting for me to cling, to beg.

But when he saw me on the street, kissing someone else with all the fire he thought belonged only to him, it finally hit him. The woman he kept for a decade no longer loved him.

*****

Nathan had kept plenty of women before me. I was just one of them.

None of them ever lasted more than three years by his side.

But I was the exception. I stayed in his world for a whole decade.

Last night, Summit Group and the Foster Group closed the biggest deal of the year, and we celebrated in bed, wild and breathless, round after round.

I woke up at three in the morning to find Nathan already hunched over his laptop at the edge of the bed.

He was well into his thirties, but he was still energetic.

"Hungry? What do you want to eat?" I propped myself up, admiring his flawless profile.

Ten years, and I still couldn't get enough of him. Why?

He turned to meet my lovestruck gaze, and his eyes lit up with a hint of amusement.

"Can you still get up after all that?" he teased.

"You dirty old man," I shot back.

I wrapped a towel around myself and got up, the towel barely hiding the love marks on my skin, yet underneath, I still looked as fresh and young as ever.

I could feel his eyes all over me, burning with desire, but he kept himself in check.

After a long while, he suddenly broke the silence. "Michelle, I'm getting married..."

His rough voice sent ripples through the quiet room, sweeping over me, cold, relentless, impossible to fight.

Nathan had one ironclad rule. Marriage was sacred. No matter how wild he played before tying the knot, once he did, he'd devote himself to his wife.

Even after ten years with him, I was never good enough to be his wife.

Truth was, deep down, I always knew this day would come, right?

He was never going to make me his wife. I knew that since the very beginning, ten years ago.

My smile froze for a split second, but I quickly turned back and flashed him my most flirtatious grin. "Congrats."

His eyes narrowed, and he looked me up and down. "Not jealous?"

He was ready to toss me aside like some used rag, but still wanted me to be crazy about him like nothing had changed.

I put on my most serious face. "Honestly, I'm practically drowning in jealousy. Can't you see it?"

Nathan rubbed his tired brow, looking helpless. Then he covered his eyes and let out a laugh. "You..."

That was the art of being a kept woman, making sure my sugar daddy was happy from every angle.

I made tomato pasta.

I stir-fried the tomatoes until they broke down into a rich, saucy paste and then tossed the hot pasta into it.

It was simple, but delicious, his favorite midnight snack, and honestly, one of the few things I could actually make well.

To be real, every skill I picked up, cooking, blending fragrances, wine tasting, even turning myself into a business ace, was all for him.

But now, I probably wouldn't need any of it anymore.

Nathan polished off a whole plate.

By the time I finished cleaning up the kitchen and came out, he was dressed to the nines.

That custom-tailored suit fit him like a glove, hiding those killer abs and that perfect waistline.

He stood there under the lights, his sharp, chiseled features making him look like a living statue.

No wonder those other women he kicked out were crying and begging to stay with him, even if it meant they'd be the ones keeping him.

They'd be hard-pressed to find another man like Nathan. He was one of a kind.

Once Nathan suited up, it was like he put on a suit of armor, all that softness and affection gone, replaced by a distant, icy pride that warned everyone to stay away.

With that look, an unspoken power radiated from him. No one dared cross him when he laid down the law.

"Here," Nathan said, pulling out a card.

"That's really not necessary. You've already given me more than enough all these years," I said.

I knew I couldn't actually refuse, but I still played it polite. No matter how much he spoiled me, I couldn't let him think I was greedy.

"Take it. It's yours. You deserve it," Nathan insisted.

This time, I took it.

Nathan never left any woman who'd been with him wanting, and I was no exception.

This money was to be done with me. I could take this pathetic payout and disappear from his sight. If I ever dared to bother him again, I'd learn what the real consequences were.

Our parting was refreshingly free of the usual tearful scenes and desperate pleas.

Nathan looked pleased with my reaction, letting a bit of that old tenderness slip through.

"It's still early. Get some more sleep," he said.

I did my part and saw him out. Then I turned and crawled back into bed.

Just as I was about to drift off, Lochlan Shaw showed up.

Lochlan was Nathan's personal assistant, the one who managed all things about the kept women for him.

I'd seen how he handled the kept women. If they knew when to quit, he'd just send them packing, no fuss.

But if they didn't, he would break their bones, patch them up, and then break them all over again, until they finally got banished to some place where no one would ever find them.

How he dealt with them all depended on how much they tried to cling to Nathan.

But I never thought I'd end up as one of Lochlan's cases myself.

Nathan had barely walked out the door before Lochlan showed up.

That was how Nathan, that jerk, treated his kept women, even though I was the only one who ever lasted ten years with him.

"Early as always, Mr. Shaw," I said, my tone dry and a little mocking.

"Mr. Hawthorne wants me to clear out the apartment..." Lochlan said.