PROLOGUE
Winter
There have onlybeen a few times in my life that I’ve truly been scared. The first was when I realized my mother and father weren’t coming home. I would never have my father’s famous pancakes or hear my mother’s angelic laugh when she heard Dad’s jokes that weren’t even that funny.
The second was when I graduated from high school and had no idea what came next. I had no ambitions like my older sister and no clear path that made sense to me. I felt alone in a world full of billions of people and had nobody to help guide me in the right direction.
And the third is right now, when I realize that I mightloveThomas Moskins—a married man with secrets and a wife who loves him and a life of grandeur that is beyond what I’ll ever comprehend.
This isn’t some rags-to-riches story. Because at least Cinderella had parents.
No. I won’t bethatgirl—the one who depends on somebody to give her a better life.
I made a promise at my parents’ graves that I would stand on my own two feet and live a life they would be proud of me for.
That can’t include him, because he isn’t mine to love.
I’m starting to wonder if it can include anyone, or if I’ve been broken for a lot longer than I thought.
CHAPTER ONE
Moskins
The sunlight creepingthrough the hotel room blinds assaults my eyes as I squint to check the time, making it hard to see the hands on my Santos de Cartier watch, a wedding gift from my wife.
Groaning when I realize I’m going to be late for a meeting with my agent, I ignore the muffled protests of the slender woman sleeping half naked beside me and throw the blankets off of us.
When the nameless blonde makes no effort to move, I say the same thing I always do to my overnight guests. “Get up, get dressed, and get out.”
I stand and stretch my sore, stiff muscles and examine the sleek curves of the bartender who warmed my sheets last night. She’d made good drinks and gave good head, but frowns sleepily at me as if she expects a flowery morning greeting and pancakes. Most women know exactly what they’re signing up for when they follow me to my room, and don’t protest when our time together is over.
“It’s early,” she whines, sitting up and holding the sheets to her tits as if her nipples weren’t in my mouth three hours ago. “I thought we could have morning sex and then get breakfast.”
Well, she thought wrong.
I collect the clothes that I’d ripped from her body in the early morning hours and toss them onto the bed before grabbing anoutfit from my suitcase for myself. “No time. I’ve got places to be.”
I slide into the bathroom to take care of business as she starts redressing with a scowl. I’m not sure why she’s pissed. She got off twice before I even got to stick my cock in her. You’d think that would put someone in a decent mood.
As I’m walking out freshly clothed, my phone goes off with Emaly’s name and picture on the screen. I chuckle at the ridiculous image of her in a baggy chicken pajama onesie, holding a glass of red wine, which she set as her contact image. “I’m surprised you’re up, Dimples,” I greet, leaning my shoulder against the wall as I watch my visitor dress. “It’s early on the West Coast.”
The nameless bartender stops buttoning her shirt when she sees me on the phone, staring at me with a narrowed expression.
There’s a smile in my wife’s voice. “Am I interrupting something? I see you’ve been busy if what TMZ is reporting is true.”
I snort and stare at the woman crossing her arms over her chest as she gapes dubiously at me.
“I’m just finishing up, actually,” I inform her, getting a scoff from my one-night stand as she flattens out her rumpled black skirt.
My wife hums. “Let me guess. Blonde?”
I grin, giving the bartender another thorough once-over. She’s shorter than I normally go for. Was she wearing heels last night? She’s pretty, though. Average. Nice rack. “You’d like her,” I say to the woman whose finger I slid a ring onto.
“Are you really flirting with another woman while I’mrighthere?” the bartender asks, glaring at me.
“Actually,” I purr, not bothering to pull the phone away from my ear, “I’m speaking with my wife.”
Emaly laughs on the other end of the phone as my lay makes a disgusted face and grabs her phone and shoes.
