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Thinking clearly now, it all made sense. Last night in the garden, he'd given me an out at first. At the apartment, he'd warned me not to cross the line if I'd regret it. He'd even given me one last chance to back out.

Maybe he'd only taken me away out of basic decency—not wanting to leave a drunk girl making a fool of herself on the street. And I—the desperate, insecure fat girl—had been the one to shamelessly cling to him, forcing him to "prove" my worth.

Besides, we were from completely different worlds. He controlled a business empire. I was a broke student counting pennies for rent.

So his disappearance was probably just the most polite, adult way to say no. A way to tell me the game was over. When the sun came up, we went back to our separate lives.

I blinked hard, forcing down a flicker of disappointment I hadn't even realized was there.

It's fine, Ruby. I told myself. At least I didn't lose out, right? I gave my first time to a charismatic, high-quality older man—not that disgusting cheater.

It was just a hot one-night stand. A way to close the door on my past and start fresh.

With that thought, I took a deep breath, picked up my phone, and opened my contacts to block Chad's number for good.

But when I opened our chat thread, my eyes caught the last message I'd sent him.

—Babe, I have a big surprise for you tonight. That gift you've been asking for.

Gift. Surprise.

Those two words hit me like lightning.

That goddamn intimate photo album.

My breathing stopped. Fragmented memories sliced through my head like blades. I remembered Mr. Moretti picking up the photos in the hallway last night... then what? I got in his car... went to his place... I think I was holding it...

No—I remembered. When we got inside, I stumbled, and the black album slipped out of my clutch.

Mr. Moretti picked it up... and casually tossed it onto the marble console table in the entryway.

The sky collapsed.

I shot off the couch like a lunatic and dumped my clutch onto the bed—lipstick, keys, coins scattered everywhere. Nothing. I ran to the entryway, searched every pocket of the sequined dress, even crawled on the floor looking.

Nothing. Nowhere.

That deeply private album—exposing every insecurity and desperate desire I had—was left behind in Mr. Moretti's apartment.

"I'm screwed... completely screwed..."

I slid down the door and buried my face in my hands.

I left that thing there. If his housekeeper found it, or his staff saw it—I couldn't even imagine the humiliation.

I pressed my head to my knees, beyond tears. But after a few minutes, I forced myself to calm down with sheer willpower.

It's fine. I already graduated. New York's huge. Moretti Group's headquarters are untouchable. A bottom-feeder like me will never, ever cross paths with that ridiculously handsome trustee again.

He'd just throw the album out like trash. He had to.

I shoved down the unease twisting in my chest, took a deep breath, stood up, wiped the involuntary tears from my eyes, and walked to my cramped closet to pick out tomorrow's outfit.

Goodbye, Mr. Moretti. Goodbye, my ridiculous first night.

Tomorrow, Ruby Caldwell would show up brand new, ready for a fresh start.

Chapter 4