Chapter 6

ALARIC

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The scotch still burned in my throat from last night.

I didn't drink scotch anymore. Not more than one glass. Control was currency in my world, and anything that compromised it…too much alcohol, sentiment, distraction…was a liability I couldn't afford.

Yet last night, I'd drained ten fingers of Macallan like water.

Because of her.

I paced the length of my penthouse, turning the facts over and over in my mind.

Data point one: A girl broke into my Penthouse.

Two: She attended my daughter's school.

Three: I was her benefactor.

Four: I fucked her in my pool.

Five: I didn't use a condom.

Number five was the most damning of all.

I never failed to use protection. I never skipped protocol.

Not in forty years.

I had legal teams on retainer specifically to handle situations like this…NDAs, settlements, whatever was required to eliminate a problem before it got messy.

But I wasn’t thinking about legal teams right now.

I was thinking about her.

Mismatched eyes. Calm blue and stormy green.

The way she looked at me like I wasn’t a title or a threat or a fortune.

Just a man.

Or maybe that was the trap.

The election was twelve weeks out.

Twelve weeks until I either secured the primary for my Senate seat or watched everything I’d built get torn apart by men like my rival Bill Hargrove… men who didn’t need truth when scandal worked just as well.

A billionaire. A girl. A pool.

It would be perfect ammunition.

Except she hadn’t acted like ammunition.

She hadn’t taken photos.

Hadn’t made demands.

Hadn’t played the game at all.

She'd just surrendered. Completely.

I could still feel her. The impossible tightness. Still hear that high-pitched cry when I'd pushed inside her. The way she'd gasped my name. The virgin blood on my fingers afterward…undeniable proof that whatever game she might be playing, that part had been real.

And I'd taken it like the ruthless bastard I was.

And then she was gone.

Which was worse.

Because I couldn’t categorize her.

I adjusted my cuff, irritated by the fact that my thoughts kept circling back to her.

Sex was never supposed to linger.

It was transactional. Controlled. Temporary.

This wasn’t that.

This was intrusive.

Unwanted.

Persistent.

Where did she go?

I’d been asking myself that since 4AM when I’d finally given up on sleep.

She couldn't have just vanished.

Unless she did the impossible and swam back to the mainland.

(Not when you fucked her so hard she’d barely be able to stand.)

Christ.

Bash, my right-hand man and the only person who could get this close to me entered, his silence telling me I wasn't going to like whatever he had to say.

"Did you find her?" I shot immediately. "Mismatched eyes. Small frame."

"No sir. Not yet."

I gritted. "Explain."

"She didn't come through the front gate. We've reviewed all footage. She's not on any of it."

"Then how the fuck did she get in?"

“It appears during the security system upgrade, the system was briefly down for 47 minutes, which left the back doors unlocked and unprotected.”

I turned to face him. "Forty-seven minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Just long enough for a clever little girl to breach my defenses.

“So someone walked into my Penthouse,” I said quietly, “and walked out again… without being seen.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fucking unacceptable.

"That won’t happen again.”

“No, sir. In fact I'll make sure we get a new head of security. Mr Hasan is writing his resignation as we speak."

I didn't tolerate failure. One mistake and you were gone. That was the rule. Especially not from the people responsible for keeping me alive in a world where rivals would cheerfully arrange an "accident" if they thought they could get away with it.

But… for reasons I wasn't ready to examine, I wasn't particularly upset that my security team had let this particular dark-haired girl slip into my pool.

"Tell him to hold off on that resignation."

Bash actually blinked. "Sir?"

"I'll let this slide. This one time."

The shock on his face was almost comical. We both knew my reputation. I didn't offer second chances.

"Understood, sir." He recovered quickly, though confusion still roamed in his eyes.

Bash cleared his throat.

"May I ask what transpired between you and the young woman, sir? For damage-control purposes."

My jaw locked so hard, I almost pulled a tooth. “No, you may not, Bash."

A beat.

"Not now. Not later. Not ever."

He inclined his head. "Understood, sir."

"I want her found. Immediately.” I buttoned what was left of my shirt. “I want to know where she disappeared to. I want a full security sweep."

"Of course, sir.” He nodded, then; "There is something else sir."

I raised an eyebrow.

“Your daughter is here. In the main villa. She appears to be throwing a party."

"What?"

"Miss Ashley. She's been here since last night."

My jaw clenched. "She should be at school. I spoke with her yesterday and she said she was studying hard for her exams."

"She lied to you, sir."

Of course she did.

Ashley. My twenty-one year old. The living, breathing reminder that even I could be brought low by the wrong woman and a broken condom.

I'd tried. Every single trick in the book. Hired the best nannies, enrolled her in the finest schools, gave her every advantage money could buy. And in return, she'd given me nothing but defiance, entitlement, and a spectacular gift for public embarrassment.

Last month it was the DUI. The month before, photos of her snorting drugs off some trust fund brat’s chest had surfaced on social media. My PR team had spent a quarter million making that disappear.

And now she was here, on my island, throwing a party when she was supposed to be three hundred miles away studying.

Discipline.

That's what she needed. What she'd always needed. But every time I tried to impose consequences, Ashley’s mother, the absolute pain in my neck, intervened. My team kept reminding me that any family conflict this close to the election would be political suicide.

So Ashley did whatever the fuck she wanted, and I wrote checks to clean up the mess.

I strode toward the door.

"Where to, sir?"

"I need to go discipline my insolent child."

"The campaign meeting, sir."

I checked my watch.

8:00.

The meeting had been scheduled for 7:30.

Damn.

"Reschedule the agenda."

Bash hesitated. "Sir, key stakeholders have already arrived."

I straightened my shirt and headed for the door.

"My daughter is my priority at this moment. The meeting begins when I walk into that room. Not a second sooner."

But as I walked toward the main villa, I wasn't thinking about Ashley.

I was thinking about her.

The mystery girl from my pool.

Find her, I'd told Bash.

But what I'd really meant was: Find her so I can fuck her again.

I shouldn’t.

But I wanted to.

Wanted to spread her legs and bury myself so deep she'd forget every name but mine. Wanted to hear her beg again. Wanted to feel her nails in my back and her teeth on my throat and that impossible tightness that had nearly made me come the second I'd pushed inside.

Once wasn't enough.

And that want was more dangerous than anything else.

Music thumped from the main villa as I approached.

The door swung open and I stepped into chaos.

And standing there… in the middle of it.

Her.

The girl I’d fucked last night in my pool.