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He glanced at me, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly and turned back to the road.

He double-parked in front of my building and killed the engine. I should’ve said thank you and gotten out, but I couldn’t move.

He turned to face me. “You good?”

“Mmhm.”

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he said, reaching over and stroking my cheek with his thumb.

I leaned across the console and pressed my lips to his. Three weeks of stubbornness cracked open like a dam.

His hand was on the back of my neck. A low growl rumbled through his chest as he pulled me closer. He kissed me hard, like he’d been holding it back since he sat down at dinner.

I tasted the whiskey he’d been drinking as my nipples pebbled against my bra. His other hand slid between my thighs and pressed against the thin fabric of my romper.

“I knew you’d be wet,” he murmured against my mouth. I whimpered as I shifted my hips against him. I wanted to climb over the console and into his lap.

My hand went to his lap, rubbing against the hardness I knew would be there. Heavenly Father, that thing felt like a weapon of mass destruction.

He pulled away and grabbed my wrist. His eyes were dark and heavy.

“Go upstairs.” His voice was low and strained.

“What if I want you to come up with me?”

His jaw ticked. I watched him wrestle with the want and control. “Hit me up tomorrow.”

I sighed and grabbed my clutch, getting out of the car.

“Goodnight,” I said, and headed into my building.

Upstairs, I changed and took out my favorite toy. I needed to get off and get this man out of my head.

Strategy. That’s all this was.

I was so full of shit.

9 CARDEZ MONTAGUE

AUGUST 2026

I had one of Priest’s guys follow Belle to get a sense of her schedule. She was a creature of habit. Pilates every Tuesday and Thursday morning. She either shopped for groceries herself or had Whole Foods delivered. Thursday through Saturday, she worked ten-hour shifts at Luxe, leaving her apartment by six and rarely getting home before four in the morning. More than enough time.

So on a Friday night, while she was at Luxe wrangling the bottle girls, I let myself into her apartment.

Yeah, it was fucked up and creepy as hell, but I didn’t care.

See, the math wasn’t mathing with Belle. How does a manager at a nightclub afford a condo in Tribeca?

“You live in a really nice building,” I said one night on the phone.

She snorted. “I’m aware.”

“Did you get it through the housing lottery?”

“No.”

“Luxe must be paying really well then,” I said.