“Good luck, bro, you’re going to need it.” JP walks out of my office, and I lean back in my chair, letting out some pent-up frustration.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

I stare down at my desk and contemplate my next move. Clearly the flowers didn’t work, which only means I’m going to have to play dirty.

She’ll hate me, but that’s fine. As long as I can get her to come to dinner and not make a fool out of me, that’s all I care about.

This is really fucking dumb, and any person watching me do what I’m about to do would agree. But desperation is at my door and I’m fucking answering.

Chocolates in hand—because honestly, I don’t know what women like and I’ve never done this before—I walk up the small path that leads to Lottie’s front door. She lives in a small bungalow with an impeccable yard, right around the corner from The Flats. The house must be worth a fortune now, especially on such a nice parcel, right next to a wealthy neighborhood.

I knock on the door and hold my breath.

“I got it, Mom,” I hear Lottie call out right before she opens the door.

She’s wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. Her hair is up, pulled away from her face, and her eyes are wide with surprise.

“Hey, babe,” I say with a devilish smile. “I’ve missed you.”

Through clenched teeth, she asks, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Don’t you want to invite me in?”

“No . . . I don’t,” she says in a snippy tone. Looks as if I have my work cut out for me.

“Lottie, who is it?” a female voice asks from inside the house.

“No one,” Lottie calls out. I can sense she’s about to slam the door in my face, so I take a step forward and stand in the doorway, cutting her off from an abrupt departure on my end.

“No one? Is that how you treat your fiancé?” I ask. “I thought I meant more to you than that?”

“You’re insane,” she whispers. “How do you even know where I live? Did you stalk me? Do you have someone following me around, watching my every move? Rich people can do things like that. I know the kind of power you have.”

Trying to hold back my smile, I say, “You typed your address into my Google Maps. It was in the previous addresses section.”

“Oh.” She slowly nods. “Yeah, that checks out.”

Jesus.

“Lottie, dessert is . . . ready. Well, hello.” From the vast resemblance between Lottie and the woman next to her, I’m going to assume this is Lottie’s mom. “And who might this be?”

Before Lottie can say anything, I hold out my hand and say, “Huxley, ma’am. Lottie’s boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” her mom shouts in surprise and turns to her daughter. “Since when have you had a boyfriend?”

“Three months,” I answer once again. “We’ve kept it really quiet. We wanted to get to know each other before we announced anything publicly. Especially since my job is high profile.”

“Wow, I’m shocked. I didn’t even know Lottie was dating anyone, but what wonderful news.” She holds out her hand and says, “I’m Maura.”

I take her hand and give it a soft shake. “Huxley. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Huxley, oh, what a wonderful name. Please come in. Dessert is ready, and I’d love for you to join us.”

I hand her the chocolates. “Maybe I can add to the dessert table with these,” I say, but before Maura can take them, Lottie snags them from my hand.

With a ravenous look in her eyes, she says, “These are mine.”

Her mom chuckles. “Don’t get between Lottie and her sweets. I’ll grab another plate for our guest. Come in, come in, Huxley.”

I do just that. I step into their quaint but homey bungalow and remove my black Tom Ford shoes and then my black suit jacket as well. I undo the buttons on the cuff of my long-sleeved button-up and roll the sleeves up to my elbows while staring down at Lottie, who’s staring up at me, hatred beaming from her pupils.

“Hey, babe,” I say again, this time with a smile.

“You’ve completely lost your mind,” she says quietly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Playing dirty. I tried to play nice, but you didn’t want to, so here I am now. Playing dirty.”

“What makes you think I’m going to play along?” She lifts her chin.

“Because I know you don’t have a job . . . and you don’t want your mom to know.”

Her face goes white, and in this moment, I do feel slightly bad. It’s obvious Lottie is going through a hard time, and I watched her struggle with her conscience in Chipotle as she tried to figure out what to do. Respected that. But I don’t have time for her to figure it out, and honestly, I don’t feel bad enough to end the farce. Especially since I’m in deeper shit than she is.

“You’re going to blackmail me?”

“No, just using tools to help me get what I want, and don’t act as if you don’t need me too.”

“I don’t. It’s why I haven’t called, you psycho,” she snaps.

Laughing, I say a little louder, “Missed you too, babe.”

“Why don’t you two come in here?” Maura calls from the kitchen.

Smiling, I reach down and take Lottie’s hand. She attempts to snatch it away, but I have a firm enough hold on her that she doesn’t go anywhere. Leaning down toward her ear, I whisper, “I swear, I’ll make this worth it for you.”

When I pull away, her surprised eyes meet mine for a brief second before I pull her toward the kitchen, hand in hand.

Her mom turns and places a plate on the small four-person table. The table is situated under a large window, offering an expansive view of their well-manicured backyard. A canopy of trees and an old stucco wall offer them privacy from the close-knit quarters of their neighbors. “Jeff is working late tonight so Lottie and I were taking advantage of some ice cream sundaes, since Jeff is lactose intolerant.”

I’m assuming Jeff is her husband.

“I believe Lottie mentioned that,” I say, playing along. “Not sure what I’d do if I were lactose intolerant. I enjoy ice cream way too much.”

“Me too,” Maura says. “I’m grateful my digestive system can handle it. Please, take a seat.”

I pull out a chair for Lottie first. I might not have vast experience in dating a woman, but I do know fucking manners, and pulling out a seat for your girl is a sweet gesture. From the look on Maura’s face, I’m going to assume she agrees. When Lottie is settled, I take a seat as well and pick up my spoon.

“Wow, I feel spoiled,” I say. “This looks amazing.”

“I gave you the works, just like me and Lottie. I hope you’re not allergic to nuts, I should’ve asked.”

“I’m all good.” I spin the bowl around. “What’s in this?”

“Vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, chopped peanuts, a dash of cherry juice, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles, and cherries.”

“Looks amazing. Thank you.” I dig my spoon into the bowl, take a large helping, and shove it in my mouth. Damn, it’s really good. I’m not sure the last time I had a sundae, but I’ve been missing out. “Really good.”

Lottie just stares at me, as if she can’t believe I’m here, eating ice cream in her mom’s kitchen, acting as though nothing is wrong.

Actually, that’s exactly what’s happening.

If only I could hear her thoughts.

My guess is, she’d just be saying, “I’m going to kill him,” over and over.

“Lottie, are you not hungry?” her mom asks.

I press my hand to her thigh and say, “She’s probably in shock. I’m not sure she was ready to tell you about me. I assumed no one was home when she was texting me, so I figured I’d stop by.” I squeeze her thigh. “Sorry, baby. Cat’s out of the bag.”

“Oh, honey, what do you have to worry about?” her mom asks.

We both look at Lottie, who looks like a deer in headlights.

“My reputation,” I say, covering for her. “It’s, uh, not the best, but not by my doing. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of Cane Enterprises.”

Maura’s face morphs into shock. “Huxley Cane? You’re Huxley Cane?”