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Heart racing and mouth bone-dry, I burst through my doorway and make a beeline to pour myself a stiff drink. The warm amber liquid burns my throat as I throw back the first glass, needing to calm my racing thoughts.

There’s no fucking way. It can’t be—she can’t be…

I close my eyes and think back to that night, the memory so vivid it’s branded into my brain.

The hitch in her breath when my tongue swept between her legs, and that first intoxicating taste of her sweet cunt.

She was so different from anyone I’ve ever been with, like she wasn’t concerned with impressing me or performing in any way. Her energy was alluring. It was as if I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

And yet as commanding and seductive as she appeared to be, I still can’t get over the way she folded for me, as if she’d never received the worship she deserved. It was infuriating and exhilarating all at once, and I’ve never felt so desperate to please anyone in my life.

At the time, I chalked up my obsession to an adrenaline rush. Then, after spending the night with her, having the best sex of my life, there was no going back after that.

I’ve been ruthlessly searching for her ever since, to no avail.

So what are the fucking chances? Not only is she not a sex worker, but she’s an A-list celebrity who, right up until this moment, I believed was happily married to her costar—which obviously can’t be the case, considering what we did the other night.

Is that just some famous people shit, getting off on the rush of pretending to be someone else?

Is Augustus going to show up here and try to fight me?

Is this all just a game to her, to see how far she can push things before she gets caught?

I think back to her viral video, remembering the two of them in a heated argument. The camera was too far away to pick up on anything they were saying, but I could see in her body language that she was upset about something. Whatever they were fighting about was a big deal.

She isn’t the type of person to just go off and cheat on her husband for the sake of it.

Is she?

No, she’s not. I shake my head, ridding that thought from my mind. I may not know her beyond the short time we spent together, but I know how to read people. Kira isn’t a bad person. There’s more going on. I’m certain of it.

I collapse onto the sofa and rake my fingers through my hair. And if all that wasn’t complicated enough, now she’s my new assistant who I just moved into my pool house.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

I’m too shook up to think straight, and I’m so fucking desperate that I do the only thing left I can think of… I pull out my phone to text my idiot brothers.

Roman

I think I fucked up

Luka

Care to elaborate, or are we just speaking of your general existence?

Leo

Jesus, Luka…

Luka

Relax. It was a JOKE

Everyone knows I proudly hold the fuck up title in this family

Roman

I’m going to choose to ignore that—only because I don’t know if your house has some kind of magical powers and I’m low-key kind of afraid of him right now.