Dangerous Desire E-Book

Michelle Love

• Herausgeber: Michelle Love
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

She stormed onto my yacht, all fire and defiance—my gorgeous obsession.
One clash over my Halloween parties, and I had her—soft and close, wanting more.
She’s mine, my break from the deals and darkness of my world.
But she’s digging too deep, uncovering secrets that could ruin me.
She’s pregnant—my baby—and I’ll kill to keep her close.
Then there’s the guy sniffing around her, threatening what’s mine.
A storm’s hitting Portland, and I’m the thunder.
No one takes her from me—not her past, not him.
I’ll burn this city down to protect what’s growing between us.

Keywords: Guaranteed HEA, no cliffhangers, happily ever after. billionaire, bad boy, office romance, steamy romance, contemporary romance, love books, love stories, new adult, alpha male, romance, action, adventure, steamy romance, small-town secrets, hot, alpha hero. free book, free novels, romantic novels, and sexually romantic books, secret baby.

Leseprobe

DANGEROUS DESIRE

A SECRET BABY HOLIDAY ROMANCE

MICHELLE LOVE

CONTENTS

Do you like FREEBIE Romance books?

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Dangerous Desire Extended Epilogue

Sneak Peek - Chapter One

Do you like FREEBIE Romance books?

Copyright © 2022 by Michelle Love

All Rights Reserved

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights are reserved.

Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

DO YOU LIKE FREEBIE ROMANCE BOOKS?

Sign up for my newsletter and get TheUnexpected Nanny, Dirty Little Virgin and other romance books for free!

Sign Up Now!

https://www.steamyromance.info/free-books-and-audiobooks-hot-and-steamy/

Want to see the rest of my books?

Go HERE!

https://books2read.com/ap/8YkZvR/Michelle-Love

BLURB

From the first moment, Winter Mai had me hooked.

Her beauty, her will to survive…

But she hates me—and with good reason.

My best friend, my brother, murdered her sister and almost killed Winter, too.

She doesn’t know about the sleepless nights I spent silently begging her to live…

And now, all these years later, she’s right in front of me, and in the arms of a man I know to be a violent and dangerous criminal.

I won’t let anything hurt her. I owe her…

…and I’m desperately—achingly—in love with her.

Will she ever forgive me?

Her face and her body haunt my dreams, and I won’t be happy until Winter is my arms, my life, and my bed…

CHAPTER ONE

Portland Harbor, Oregon

As usual, it was the fireworks that triggered her. The sound of the pop-pop-pop-pop-pop in the night sky above the harbor was endless, and although Winter tried all the techniques the counselor had taught her, she still ended up trembling underneath the bunk in her bedroom.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to visualize her happy place, playing with her childhood dog, Crunchy, in the wheat fields of her youth in Kokomo, Indiana. Those few years when her father was stationed at that military base were the happiest of Winter’s life.

Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop. It’s just fireworks, that is all it is…

Blood. Screaming. Terror. An ordinary Saturday afternoon shopping with her sister at the mall…

Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop.

She hears a strange keening sound, like a wounded animal, except the sound is coming from her, and she stuffs her hands into her own mouth to stop herself. Anyone close by would wonder why she was screaming, and out here on her tiny houseboat in Portland Harbor, a million miles away from where it had happened, they might come to help her.

The last thing she needed now were strangers on her boat, in her home. Her skin itched at the thought of it.

Finally, just after one a.m. the fireworks ended, and Winter crawled out panting from under the bunk. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest and took several deep breaths. Her chest felt fluttery, her psyche fragile, and she let a few hot tears fall down her cheeks before she rebuked herself.

You’re twenty-seven years old, Winter Mai. You’re an adult. Fireworks are just that. Fireworks.

She scrambled to her feet—too quickly—and grabbed the edge of the bunk as she swayed, dizzy. Her back was aching from being scrunched up beneath the bunk, and she stretched it out with a couple of yoga moves, pretending to herself that she was relaxing.

In reality, her ears were tuned, ready for more. Fear was turning into anger. Who the hell was letting off fireworks? It was early November; Thanksgiving still three weeks away. It wasn’t an election year nor had any other big event occurred.

Just some assholes celebrating a goddamned birthday or something, and fuck everyone else’s peace, Winter thought angrily now. That irritation propelled her out onto her deck to seek out the perpetrator despite her frazzled nerves.

The culprit wasn’t difficult to spot. The vast yacht that was moored in the harbor had arrived two days ago and was now jam-packed with people. A party. A thick pall of smoke hung about it, and Winter could still see small fireworks being set off from it. Assholes.

To make herself feel better, she gave it the finger with both hands and stomped back inside.

Winter shut her door and sunk down into her ancient but comfortable sofa, glancing at the clock. She had a nine o’clock appointment in the morning to give a piano lesson to one of her students, so sleep was definitely the best idea now… except she knew it wouldn’t come. Truthfully, her constant nightmares prevented her from getting any solid sleep nowadays, and it was only when she took a sleeping pill that she got any rest at all.

But they made her feel so crappy the next day… no. She got up and went to take a shower. Even in the cold of an Oregon winter, she was sweating and clammy from the terror of the fireworks. She stripped off and studied herself in the floor-length mirror. She could do with gaining a couple of pounds; her slight frame the result from a lack of appetite and not being able to afford much food. All her money, all the awarded compensation from the… ‘thing’… had gone into buying this houseboat; now she had to live paycheck-to-paycheck from the small amount of money she earned as a freelance piano tutor.

That didn’t matter, she thought now. I don’t need money. I just want peace… and for most of the time, that’s what this little haven in Portland gave her. She didn’t see many people—didn’t want to see anyone—except for the few students she had, and she was very lucky to have them.

Winding her long dark hair up into a bun, Winter stepped into the shower. The daughter of a Chinese-American father and a Dutch mother, she was the youngest of three sisters. Her two older siblings, Summer and Autumn, were older by two and four years respectively, the latter a famed celebrity chef now back in New York. Summer had been with Winter when the shooting happened.

Winter survived, although badly injured. Summer…

Summer didn’t make it.

Winter stood under the water until it turned cold, but she still felt like her skin was on fire. She pressed her hands to the scars across her chest and stomach. The bullets had missed her major organs and arteries, unbelievably so, considering she had been shot six times, but Summer hadn’t been so lucky.

Stop it. Winter shook herself, cranking off the shower faucet and stepping, shivering now, out of the shower. She dried herself quickly and dressed in jeans and a sweater, tugging on thick socks and her sneakers.

After busying herself with making a cup of tea, Winter stepped out onto her houseboat deck. It was bitingly cold, but that’s what she wanted—the cool air on her skin. She sat down on the small love seat and sipped her fragrant tea. While watching the fete slowly break up and partygoers boisterously leaving the yacht, she could see them thanking a tall man, dark and exquisitely dressed in a dark grey suit and a blue shirt. She guessed him to be in his forties, carrying an athletic build with strong legs and broad shoulders. His hair was cut short, and his face was handsome, as chiseled as a Roman God. He was clearly the owner of the yacht, and Winter wondered who he was.

Wondering the name of the man I should hate for putting me through this night. She knew she was scowling, but she didn’t care; she even hoped he would see her and realize he had upset her. Winter hoped some of the other people who lived here would be out of their homes as well, giving him hell for keeping them awake.

But she guessed that none of them likely react to fireworks the way she does. She sighed. She hated this time of year; so many noisy holidays that could provoke more nights like this: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year. Along with July 4th, they were her least favorite days of the year, but at least she could expect them—prepare. Noise cancelling headphones and Pearl Jam at full blast. When she could afford it, she would drive to a motel out in the middle of nowhere on July 4th just to avoid all the fireworks and celebrations.

But when they were unexpected, like tonight, she had no time to prepare. Fuck… Winter knew she would be upset for days now, her equilibrium rocked. She sighed and closed her eyes. Another sleepless night was on its way unless she gave in to that little bottle of pills on her bathroom sink.

Raziel Ganz said goodbye to the last of his guests and made his way back up to the now-darkened party deck. For the last hour or so, he’d been waiting to be alone, so he could study the young woman sitting out on the deck of the small houseboat moored next to his yacht. He had seen her storm out and make the crude gesture towards his yacht just after the fireworks had finished, and it had amused him greatly.

Not only that, but the girl was achingly beautiful: bi-racial, he guessed; Asian; her almond eyes; the olive skin; the dark hair tumbling around her shoulders—an exquisite face even in anger.

It had been a while since Raziel Ganz had been surprised by a woman. The ladies that he attracted knew of his wealth and tried to land him as a partner, a future husband, but he wasn’t interested in commitment—not with those women. Where was the challenge, the fire, the excitement?

No. He’d much rather spar with the young woman who owned that damn ramshackle houseboat. She was clearly unimpressed by wealth, and that was thrilling to him.

At forty-four, Raziel Ganz presented an aura of corporate wealth, ruthless business acumen, and dazzling good looks to the world, and he enjoyed everything that brought him. He slept around, yes, but rarely called any of the woman back—no, scratch that—he never called any woman back.

This woman, though, might prove interesting. She would certainly look good on his arm when he met Satchel Rose, his mark for this visit to Portland. Rose was notoriously private—elusive and reclusive—and the fact he’d agreed to a meeting with Raziel was a major victory. If Raziel wanted to move some of his shipping corporation to Portland, he would have to have Rose on side to secure the city’s welcome.

And Rose would give him the air of authenticity that he needed to cover his real business…

For now though, Raziel lit a cigarette and watched the beauty on the houseboat. She seemed to sense his scrutiny and glared up in his direction. As he watched, amused, she again threw a middle finger up, got up, and stalked back into her home, slamming the door behind her.

Raz smiled. Yes. She would be his kind of challenge.

CHAPTER TWO

“You look like crap.”

Winter half-grinned at her student and her friend. “Always such a silver-tongued devil. Thank you.”

Joseph Matts, his hair coaxed up into a Mohican, shrugged. “Sorry, boo, but it’s unusual for you to look bad, so it’s more noticeable.” He checked himself. Joseph was bipolar and sometimes spoke his mind without thinking. “Sorry. I meant that as a compliment.”

Winter’s smile was wide now. “I know, honey.” She rubbed his back. Joe was one of the few people she could stand to be around, which was why she considered him her friend as well as a paying student.

Joe was around her age, maybe even a little older, and was a sensational musician. He was way past what Winter would consider as needing lessons, but the truth was, she knew Joe felt comfortable with her, and she helped him write songs for his two-man band. Joe’s wife, Cassie, was also a friend; she and Joe so in love that it made Winter’s heart ache. Cassie kept Joe steady, managing his medication and his moods with an expert touch. Winter always told her she had the looks of a cheerleader and the brain of a Nobel Prize winner. Cassie was a sweetheart even if she did tend to ‘mother’ Winter a little. Winter didn’t mind that so much.

Joe sat down at the piano as Winter grabbed her folder. “What were we doing last time?”

“New song. The one about darkness.”

“They’re all about darkness,” Winter shot back with a laugh. “We’re the cheerful twins, remember?”

“Word.” Joe grinned at her. “You know, I was talking to Josh… we could always use a third member.”

“Ha, thanks, but no thanks. I’m not a performer. Not anymore.”

She was interrupted by a knock on the door of her houseboat. Winter and Joe frowned at each other. She never got unplanned visitors. Winter got up and went to the door. A smiling delivery man greeted her and handed her a huge hamper. “Courtesy of Mr. Ganz. An apology for the inconvenience of his party last night.”

Before Winter could react, the man had gone. She staggered back inside with the heavy hamper and dumped it on her couch.

“What the hell?” Joseph was up, looking curious. Winter sighed.

“Dude in the big yacht next door trying to buy my forgiveness for keeping me awake all night. Which is why I look like crap, by the way. I can’t keep this.”

Joe held his hands up, grinning. “Woah, woah! Wait until you check out what’s inside.”

“Joe.”

“I’m serious. Come on, open up.”

Sighing, Winter opened up the hamper reluctantly, sincerely wanting to just reject it immediately.

“Damn.” Joseph whistled, and Winter gaped at what was inside: Champagne, caviar, truffles, and a myriad of artisanal cold cuts, cheeses, and other luxury foods. Joe plucked the card from the hamper. “Read! Read!”

Winter snatched it from him, grinning. “Damn, boy, you are so nosy.” She opened it and read aloud what it said. “Please accept my apologies for the disturbance last night, dear lady. I hope this goes some way to making up for it. Perhaps you would like to join me for drinks tonight? Raziel Ganz.” She rolled her eyes. “Dear lady?”

Joe snorted. “Perhaps he and Mr. Darcy teamed up to write that card. How does he know he upset you?”

Winter grinned. “I gave him the bird. Twice. He might not have seen the first time, but he definitely saw the second time.” She felt pleased that her nemesis had seen her anger. She looked down at the hamper. It had to be said, this food would be a welcome asset to her bare cupboards—she’d been living on ramen and pasta for the last week or so. Joe was watching her carefully.

“Win? There would be nothing wrong with keeping this, you know? You wouldn’t owe him anything but a polite thank you.”

Winter flushed. Joe was one of the few people who knew she struggled to make ends meet—he and Cassie often invited Winter over to eat with them, and Cassie always managed to send Winter home with the leftovers. Winter wished she didn’t need to take their kind charity, but a girl needed to eat. She paid them back by working with Joe for his songwriting and not charging for the extra time. It made her feel as if she were giving something back at least. “It’s a lot.”

“Well, he kept you awake, and I know how you feel about fireworks…”

Winter nodded. “Yup.” She grinned ruefully. “I have to admit, that ham looks amazing.”

“It does, and you know what, that reminds me… Cassie and I would love to have you over for Thanksgiving… if you’re not with your family, of course.”

Winter’s heart sank. “No. I won’t be with them.” Not for a couple of years now, and she couldn’t see a time when she would be again.

Joe rubbed her shoulder. “Then it’s decided.”

She smiled at him. He may look like a punk rocker who didn’t give a crap, but Joe really was the sweetest guy she had ever known. He felt like family to her now as did Cassie; Joe was the brother Winter had never had. “If you’re sure?”

“Very. Now, should we get on?”

Winter nodded, closing the hamper and leaving the card on top. She’d decide what to do about it later. “We should. Let’s get to it.”

Raziel had smiled to himself when he saw the delivery guy turn up at the girl’s houseboat with the hamper. He watched as surprise registered on her lovely face, then a stiff nod. She wasn’t someone who took charity, he could see that.

And now he knew her name as well. Winter Mai. His private investigator had taken less than an hour to find about her. Twenty-seven and a piano tutor. Living alone. No family in the Portland area. Survived the mall shooting massacre in Seattle a few years back, but was seriously injured.

Ah. Raz suddenly understood the reason for her anger last night. The fireworks. Damn. Well, at least he could apologize for that and cancel his plans for any further shows. It was the least he could do. His private investigator had turned up some photos of her, too. Christ, she was stunning. Dark brown eyes, olive skin, long dark hair with burnished mahogany highlights. A petite curvy body: soft, sensual. His gaze lingered over that exquisite face and that pink rosebud mouth—so inviting, so kissable.

Yes. She would be a challenge, but he was confident he could seduce her. Good. He was bored with the usual suspects when it came to his bed partners. He wondered how long she would hold out before she succumbed to his charms… it wouldn’t be long.

He turned as his personal assistant, Gareth, knocked at his office door and came in. “Hey, boss.”

“Gareth. What’s on for today?”

“Unfortunately there’s still no confirmation from the Satchel Rose camp on when he’ll meet with you, but I do have intel he’ll be at a function for the Portland Public Library in a couple of weeks.”

Raz’s eyebrows shot up. “Rose? Out in public?”

Gareth smiled. “Seems he has ties to the library—family ties, I think. Not quite sure in what manner.”

“Find out, would you? And call the library. Tell them I’d like to attend.”

“Sure thing.”

When he was alone, Raziel’s thoughts turned back to the beautiful young woman on the houseboat. He would go see her personally this afternoon to give her little room to reject him.

Winter Mai would be the perfect date for the library benefit and to meet Satchel Rose, and he, Raziel, always got what he wanted.

Always.

CHAPTER THREE

Satchel Rose sighed as someone knocked at his study door. He’d hoped not to be interrupted for the morning, so he could indulge in his favorite task: designing buildings. He’d gotten a couple of hours of drawing and planning done, but now his assistant was interrupting his flow, and he knew he wouldn’t get it back again. “Come in.”

Molly stuck her head around the door, an apologetic expression on her sweet face. “I’m sorry, Satch. I wouldn’t interrupt, but your father called again. Wanted to get your yes or no for Thanksgiving, and he insisted I come ask you. I think he’s worried you won’t turn up and referee.”

Satchel smiled despite himself. His father, Patrick, was a loving but weak-willed man who was terrified of his new wife, Janelle. Satchel, on the other hand, adored Janelle, although he jokingly called her his step-monster. The African-American college professor gave as good as she got, teasing Satchel mercilessly, and also ruling her husband’s life, challenging him, egging him on, not letting him rest on his laurels in his retirement. They’d been together for twenty years but had only recently tied the knot.

Satchel smiled at Molly now. “I’ll call the house, Mols. Thanks.”

“No problem, boss.”

Satchel called the house; both his father and Janelle refused to get cellphones, which Satchel found cute and annoying in equal measure. Janelle answered his call.

“Hey, Brat.”

“Hey, Monster. I have been summoned.”

Janelle laughed, her giggle mischievous. “Your dad is crapping his pants. I told him all my sisters and my mom are coming to Thanksgiving. It’s not true, of course, but he’s convinced he’ll be outnumbered.”

Satchel laughed loudly. “You really are evil. I love it.”

“Here’s your dad. Don’t rat me out…” she whispered before raising her voice slightly. Satchel’s dad was a little deaf. “Your son, or so he says. I think he’s actually the spawn of the devil.” She cackled with laughter, then her voice grew fond as she spoke to Satchel again. “Just kidding. Love you, Brat. Bye, sweetie.”

“Bye, gorgeous. Love you, too.” Satchel waited until his dad took the phone and said hello. “Hey, Pa, how are you doing?”

“Women.” Patrick said with a quiver in his voice. “There’s going to be women everywhere. She has six sisters, Satch! Six!”

Satchel grinned to himself. “Pa, most men would be grateful to be surrounded by women.”

“Six sisters, Satchel. Six. And the mother.”

“You love Janelle’s family, come on.”

Patrick harrumphed. “I love them… from a distance. Just promise me you’ll be there.”

“I promise, Pa. Calm down.”

That seemed to settle his father. “Bringing anyone? How about that Molly? She’s a sweetheart; I don’t know why you haven’t snapped her up.”

“Because, Pa, I possess something that she isn’t the least bit interested in.”

“What could that possibly be, son?”

Satchel grinned. “A penis, Pa. I’ve told you before. Molly is very happily married to a wonderful woman.”

More grumbling and muttering from his father, and Satchel laughed. “Pa, look, there’s no one at the moment, and I’m fine with that.”

“There hasn’t been for a couple of years, Satch. I’m worried.”

“Pa… come on. I’m too old for you to be worrying about that.” Satchel swallowed the irritation that always bubbled up when his dad fretted about his son’s lack of love life. “I’m fussy, and I like my own space.”

“Hermit.”

“Yup, unashamedly so.”

There was a short silence on the end of the line. “As long as you’re not still blaming yourself for… you know.”

Satchel’s chest felt tight. “No, Pa.” A lie—and they both knew it. “Look, I have to go. I’ll be at Thanksgiving, I promise.”

“Good. Love you, son.”

“Love you, too, Pa.”

He hung up and rubbed his face as he headed to the small executive bathroom next to his office. Satchel worked from home as much as possible, but even his home was set out like an office, with Molly having her own private space in which to work. She was about the only person he could stand to be around for long periods, but even then, sometimes he felt the overwhelming need to be alone. Luckily, Molly seemed to sense when he was going through one of his hermit phases and would leave him alone as much as she could, running interference on people who wanted more time than Satchel was willing to give.

Satchel splashed water on his face and studied his reflection. At almost forty, he knew he had aged into a handsome man, but his looks were a hindrance as far as Satchel was concerned. Dark hair, swarthy skin from his late Italian mother, and bright green eyes were like catnip to both women and men. When he had been younger, he had been a beautiful boy and had made the most of it: sleeping around, enjoying life. Being sociable. When had that changed?

You know when, he told himself. He closed his eyes, scrunching them up. God, when he would he just get over it? It wasn’t your fault Callan Flint went crazy with that gun. It wasn’t your responsibility to ‘save’ him.

So why did he feel like it was? Ever since the St Anne’s Mall massacre, Satchel had felt himself withdrawing from public life. Callan had been his best friend, and he hadn’t noticed how bad things had gotten.

No one had, but Satchel was the person closest to Callan, and even he hadn’t seen it. Twenty-seven people dead. Fifty three injured. Satchel had paid for every funeral and all the medical expenses and had to be stopped from giving away all of his money to the survivors. Callan’s parents had stepped in then. “Satchel, this isn’t your fault. We need to do something, too—make reparations.”

And so, the Flint family had paid out compensation to the victims. It wasn’t like they couldn’t afford it—both the Rose and Flint families were billionaires several times over. But for Satchel, it didn’t feel as he’d done enough. He became increasingly despondent and only found peace when he was alone.

He pushed those thoughts aside for now, knowing they would return as they always did to routinely haunt his days. To distract himself, he powered on the television and flicked through the channels. He stopped when he came to a food and cooking channel, his attention caught by the woman presenting. Autumn Mai. He knew that name all too well. The Mai family. Three sisters, Autumn, Summer, and Winter. Autumn was the only one of them left physically unscathed by the shooting. Summer had been killed by a single bullet to her throat. Winter, the youngest, had been the worst of the injured, shot six times in the chest and stomach at point-blank range and not expected to live.

Satchel, unbeknownst to everyone, had often sat by the young woman’s bed late at night, after visiting hours. It was time his money could buy. He didn’t know her at all and hadn’t spoken to her family, but there was something so vulnerable about her. Christ, she was just a kid.

Then, without warning, one day her family secretly transferred her to a different hospital, and he lost track of her. It felt like a death. He’d been channeling all his guilt into this one victim, and when she was removed from his life, his guilt had nowhere to go but internally.

He watched her older sister now, Autumn. A celebrity chef even before the shooting, she was confident and affable on screen and obviously loved her chosen profession. A stunningly beautiful woman, her Asian parentage obvious in her features and her dark hair piled up on her head as she moved gracefully around the set.

Satchel sighed. Maybe he could get past the guilt if he found out where Autumn’s sister had gone. If he could see her, apologize to her in person…

But that would be an incredible invasion of privacy and selfish of him, too. No, he had to face his demons on his own.

He just didn’t know where the hell to start.

CHAPTER FOUR

She was screaming now, begging Summer to breathe… Her sister’s eyes were open, staring, so she must be okay, right? “That’s it, Sum, look at me. Breathe… breathe…”

But Summer wouldn’t take a breath—not ever again. The blood on her neck, the hole in her throat…

Winter screamed and screamed, before hearing the gun click right behind her. She whirled around to face her sister’s killer, and he pressed the gun against her body and shot her, the bullets slamming into her belly…

She went down, and he stood over her, firing again and again and again…

“No!” Winter sat up in her bunk, breathing heavily, dragging precious oxygen into her lungs. She spent a few moments catching her breath, calming herself.

Slowly, the sound of music seeped into her brain, the irritating thumpa-thumpa-thumpa of a heavy dance beat.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she growled and got up, pushing back the bedroom curtain.

That asshole was having another party. “Nope. No fucking way.”

Winter, incensed, and riding on adrenaline from her nightmare, tugged on her jeans and an old T-shirt and stomped up on deck. In her bare feet, she stalked along the jetty and pushed past the bodyguard without speaking to him. She was surprised that he didn’t make any attempt to stop her, and a moment later, she heard him speaking into his walkie-talkie. “She’s on her way up, boss.”

What the hell? But Winter was too riled up to stop now. She had no idea where she was going, but eventually she found herself on the main deck. To her surprise, there was no crowd of people and she stopped, frowning. She hadn’t imagined it; she’d seen them on the deck, crowding around a few moments earlier.

“Miss Mai.”

She whirled around to see him, Raziel Ganz, smiling at her. “If you’re wondering where everyone went… they went back to their rooms. My staff.” He looked around and spoke aloud to some unknown person. “Cut the music, would you?”

The music stopped, the bright lights dimmed, and just a string of small white lights lit the deck. Winter was confused. “You… what the hell is going on here?”

Gan smiled. “You didn’t reply to my invitation, so I thought I’d try a more imaginative approach.” He titled his head to the side. “And you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

Hell, no. “So, this was a trick?”

“A plot, yes.”

“It’s creepy,” she said, no humor in his tone. “And I don’t appreciate it.”

Raziel shrugged. “Then I misread the situation and I apologize. But you’re here now… Can I at least apologize for last night in person?”

Winter wasn’t in any mood for a rich man’s games. “You did that with the hamper. Which I can’t accept, obviously.”

“And yet you didn’t send it back. Curious.”

Winter flushed. Asshole. “Not yet, but I assure you, Mr…? I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.” A cheap shot but she enjoyed it.

“Call me Raz. You can assure me of what?”

“The ‘gift,’ ‘apology,’ whatever you want to call it… will be returned untouched. I do not accept your apology. I just want you to be considerate of the people who live here on the harbor.”

Raziel Ganz held up his hands. “You’re completely right, of course.”

That stopped her. “What?”

Raz sat down at one of the tables and nodded to the chair opposite for her to sit. “You’re right. It was selfish and inconsiderate of me to throw a party without at least considering the inhabitants here. You must think me a rich, spoiled man.”

Winter was a little disarmed by that, and she slowly took the seat, narrowing her eyes at him. “Aren’t you?”

“I am, I admit. I am. But I’m also just a man. I make mistakes. I’m sorry, Winter.”

He seemed genuine and Winter felt her anger dissipate. “So, this whole ruse was in aid of what?”

Raziel grinned and his whole face lit up. There was no denying he was a spectacularly handsome man. “A little payback. For the three bird-flipping incidents.”

Winter smirked then. “You deserved them.”

“I did. And I wanted to meet you.”

Winter half-smiled. “You could have just come and said hello. I’m right there.”

She pointed down at her home, which, she had to admit, looked a wreck next to this behemoth of a boat. “But why would you want to meet me? Of all people?”

Raziel smiled. “Because you’re different. You don’t kiss ass. You don’t care about all this.” He waved his hand around casually.

“You get all that from a couple of rude gestures?” Winter was bemused but Raziel nodded.

“I do. Plus… I will be upfront; I asked around about you. People here really like you, Winter.”

She flushed at the compliment, a warm feeling blooming in her chest. She was touched, but she didn’t want to show it to this man.

This man, who she hated to admit, was surprising her. She liked that he didn’t pretend that he wasn’t absurdly privileged, but also that he knew there was more to life, to a person, than wealth. “Who are you, Mr. Ganz?”

He chuckled. “It’s Raz, please, and my business is shipping, but I’m hoping to move into property. Portland is one of the most up-and-coming cities in the word right now. I want in.”

“I see.” She didn’t know what else to say to that. What did she, a piano tutor, know about shipping?

“Winter… have dinner with me tomorrow night. No pressure, just dinner.”

She gave a confused chuckle. “Why?”