Chapter One

Siobhan Upton hit the call button for the elevator then tapped to check her phone.

Ugh. Her sister was asking about Christmas. Again.

Siobhan was the youngest of four girls. Both her middle sisters had invited her to stay in America for Thanksgiving, a holiday they’d both adopted since moving here from London. Their mother was flying to Miami to stay with them and swore she wasn’t leaving until winter was over back home.

Meanwhile, Siobhan’s eldest sister, Cinnia, was pressuring her to spend Christmas with her and her family in Spain. Cinnia was hosting all her in-laws for the first time in years. Siobhan knew them well and genuinely loved them, especially the children, but she hadn’t been able to enjoy Christmas since her bat guano of an ex-boyfriend had ruined that time of year for her five years ago.

She was dodging all of it by claiming to be focused on finding a job and a place to live. Which was true. She had these interviews in San Francisco then needed to get back to Sydney to pack up her flat, not sure where she would end up—

Wait.

She gasped with excitement as she saw the email from the placement agency.

Pleased to inform you… Employment contract will be forwarded… Expect you in Madrid on Monday December first…

“Yes!” That was only ten days away, but Siobhan punched the air and nearly leaped out of her borrowed Jimmy Choo heels.

“Are you going up?” The deep male voice held a hint of a Spanish accent.

She glanced up to see a man inside the elevator, holding the door for her.

Her heart took a swerve. Wow. He was really hot.

“Yes.” She swallowed. “Thanks.”

She stepped in beside him, blood fizzing for another reason. She tried not to stare, but he was kind of dazzling. He was thirty-ish and had an aura of dark sexiness with his thick black hair swept back from his forehead, and irises that were such a dark brown they seemed black. His cheeks were long and clean-shaven, his jaw well-defined. His nose was blade-sharp and his upper lip distinctly peaked.

As a uni student, Siobhan had fallen into wearing off-the-rack hoodies and other casual wear that helped her blend in, but she’d been around enough haute couture to recognize that navy suit was bespoke. It sat perfectly against his upper body, accentuating his broad shoulders and extremely fit physique.

Was he an actor? This was San Francisco, not LA, but he could be here on movie business. He certainly looked as though he financed blockbuster productions. Or starred in steamy thrillers as a morally gray character.

One thick black brow quirked, polite but patronizing. “Floor?”

“Oh, um…” Good grief, she was behaving like an idiot. As she tried to open the app, she watched him use his phone on the reader, then touch P. “That works for me. Thanks. I got the job I wanted.” She wiggled her own phone as the doors closed. “I’m not usually such a scatterbrain.”

“Congratulations.”

“On not being a scatterbrain? Thanks.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Australian?” he guessed.

“English. But I’ve been in Sydney long enough to adopt their accent.” The better to blend in and not have her past follow her.

He was looking at her as though trying to make up his mind about something.

She warmed under his study, wondering when she’d last felt this level of instant attraction. Had she ever?

The doors opened to the foyer of the elite level. In front of her was a frosted door labeled Concierge. A fountain trickled a soothing rhythm next to a courtesy bench.

“Have a nice evening.” Siobhan flashed a smile. She felt awkward as she turned away, as though she’d forgotten how to walk.

“Are you going to celebrate?” he asked behind her.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” She experienced a rush of relief and pivoted to face him, then tilted her head as she considered it. “I have another interview tomorrow, but now that I’ve got the job I want, that’s just for practice. Maybe I’ll order champagne. My sister’s paying for the room. Why not?” she added with a cheeky grin.

“No one to celebrate with? I’ll buy you a drink.” He nodded toward the private lounge reserved for guests on this floor.

Her inner defenses reflexively ran through her mental house, bolting and locking all the doors and windows. It was a PTSD response, not because she feared men. She was more than capable of taking care of herself on a physical level, but she didn’t want to be used and betrayed again.

Even if he knew who she was, he didn’t look like someone who needed her connections, though. Did he know who she was?

“You’re not single?” He misinterpreted her hesitation. The hint of warmth in his expression turned to cool dismissal. “Perhaps another time.”

“No, I am. I just…” Never hook up.

Not that she was thinking about that. She barely dated or even went out with friends. Her mates at school had been her age, but infinitely less mature and jaded. They had partied as often as they studied while Siobhan had focused on keeping a low profile and finally completing her degree. Her social life was mostly confined to family and conducted out of the public eye. Her trust in strangers was very low.

This particular stranger was exceedingly compelling, however. And she didn’t want to drink her champagne in a hotel room while talking to her mother over the tablet. She wanted a few more minutes with him.

“I was just surprised,” she said with a smile that felt unsteady.

“That a man offered to buy you a drink?” His black brows lifted in skepticism.

“No.” A man at LaGuardia had offered to buy her a drink and there’d been a whole convention of men at the hotel in Miami trying to hit on her. “That I want to accept.”

“Ah.” His eyes narrowed slightly. She suspected that was as close as he got to a smile.

He was ringless, but she cocked her head to ask, “Are you single?”

“Sí. Joaquin.” He offered his hand.

“Siobhan.” She shook his hand and felt the tingle all the way up her arm.

Breathless, she walked into the empty lounge and excused herself to the powder room where she washed her hands and touched up her makeup, smoothing her brunette hair back into its chignon.

When she returned, Joaquin was at a table by the windows. He rose to help her with her chair. “The wind might break up the clouds and give us a sunset.”

“It’s a nice view either way.” It was overcast and spitting rain, but the Golden Gate Bridge stood reddish-orange against the mist.

“Have you been here before?” he asked.

“No. And I leave after my interview in the morning so I won’t have time to explore.” She was looking for a menu, but the server arrived with an ice bucket and showed Joaquin a bottle of Cristal. He nodded for it to be opened.

“You’re spoiling me,” Siobhan said. “I would have ordered a split of the California bubbly.”

“My family has vineyards. I’m a snob.”

“Is that what brings you here? Are they here?”

“No, I had meetings. I’m in tech, heading to Asia tomorrow.”

She suspected that was a deliberate detail to let her know this was a very casual encounter, barely a date, not the beginning of anything serious.

“Where do you live?” she asked curiously.

“These days? On my plane,” he said ironically.

The cork popped. Joaquin smelled and tasted, then nodded his approval.

The server poured into a crystal flute rimmed in gold and offered it to her.

The pale amber sparkled with fine bubbles. Siobhan lifted it and closed her eyes as she inhaled the aroma of sea air and lime zest.

When the server walked away away, Joaquin said, “Salud,” and offered his glass.

“Cheers. And thank you.” She touched her glass to his, then sipped. The delicate effervescence coated her tongue with a silky mousse-like texture. Buttery flavors of crushed nuts and yeasty sourdough melted in her mouth, followed by saline and citrus and a lengthy floral finish.

“You’re also a snob,” he accused lightly.

She opened her eyes to realize he’d watched her savor her first taste. Her heart hiccupped and her gaze got all tangled up in his intense stare. She licked her lips and his attention dropped to her mouth, making her pulse swerve again.

“I’m lucky enough to have been around the finer things in life.” She lifted the glass. “I make the most of it when I can.”

His brows went up in a prompt for more information.

“I’m not an escort,” she blurted, suddenly fearing that was why he’d offered to buy her this drink.

“I didn’t think you were.” He was definitely laughing at her behind that impassive expression. “Tell me about your new job.”

“I would, but then I’d have to kill you.”

His dark gaze flickered to her shoulders and the slender wrist holding the delicate glass. “You could try.”

“Don’t be fooled. I’ve taken self-defense. I’m actually very dangerous.”

“That, I believe.” His expression was relaxed and she had his full attention. It was heady. A glow of enjoyment spread through her chest.

“I’m trying to sound more exciting than I am,” she admitted. “The truth is I recently finished my BBA. I want to go into contract law, so I’m gaining experience in that field.”

“How old does that make you?” His brows lowered into a frown.

“Relax. I’m twenty-four. Old enough to drink.” And do other things. She bit back a smirk.

He made a noise of contemplation, and his gaze traveled over her short jacket and the dark hair gathered into the roll at her nape. “I couldn’t tell. You look young, but you seem very self-possessed.”

“Mature for my age?” she asked drily. “I’ve been told that all my life. Forty at fourteen.”

“Are you still speaking to the people who said that?”

“Ha. Yes. Because they weren’t wrong.” She shrugged. “I was in such a hurry to grow up, I finished my A levels at sixteen by home study. Regular school was too slow and boring.” And she had been helping Cinnia with her twins.

“Then what? You moved to Australia? Took a gap year?” His brows came together in calculation. “Or three?”

“I actually had most of a language degree completed by nineteen, but my education was interrupted.” Thanks to that absolute turd weasel, Gilbert. She washed away the bitterness on her tongue. “I started over when I moved to Australia. Transferring the credits wasn’t an option, but I still managed to finish early. I would have preferred to be further ahead by now, but…” She had needed to lick her wounds. Be someone else. Someone who didn’t make stupid mistakes.

“Is this new job articling?”

“No. That’s what I should be doing, but I’m sick of school.” She rolled the stem of her glass between her finger and thumb. “This is just a maternity cover as an EA, but it’s a good opportunity and puts me back into the real world. Plus, I’ll be closer to my sister and her children. They’re growing fast—” She stopped herself from prattling. “This is the real reason I didn’t want to tell you about it. It makes me sound very dull.”

“It could all be a lie to disguise the fact you’re really an assassin.” The corner of his mouth dug in before he hid the faint smile behind his glass.

“True. Siobhan isn’t even my real name.” She waved a dismissive hand. “That’s both a joke and the truth. Siobhan is my second name.”

“What’s your first name?”

She wrinkled her nose in reluctance. “I don’t share it. Not because I don’t like it. I was named for my great-grandmother and I don’t mind keeping her alive in that small way.”

Her name was Doreena. Siobhan had grown up as Dorry. Her family still called her that, but hearing it was something she both loved and hated. It made her feel connected to them, but it was an uncomfortable reminder of that silly girl who had screwed up so badly.

“I just prefer Siobhan.” Siobhan had her act together. Siobhan didn’t make dangerous mistakes.

“Here I thought you were going to admit to hiding from the law.”

“I love that you think I’m that interesting. No, the bald truth is I’m related by marriage to some very rich people.” She watched him, looking for signs he already knew, but only saw mild curiosity in his expression. “That’s how I can tell Cristal from Dom.” She tilted her glass. “I was stung by someone who used me to get close to them so I changed my name to distance myself.”

That was a very watered-down version. It was also a warning that she wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Anyone else would have asked: Who are they?

Joaquin gave an impassive blink. “Why contract law?”

“Are you suffering insomnia and need something to put you to sleep? Why are we still talking about me?”

“I’m interested.”

Was he? He was listening attentively, but his motives were impossible to read. He was most likely trying to get lucky. Perhaps he was lonely. Maybe he was an assassin trying to blend in by having a drink with a stranger.

She really wanted to take him at his word, though. She was feeling a deep pull of attraction and yearned for it to be mutual.

“It’s another deeply unsexy answer,” she warned. “When I was young, our family went through some hard times. One of my sisters got into estate law to pay the bills. Probate and such.”

“Not the direction desperate women usually take,” he noted with a twitch of his lips.

“Right?” Siobhan grinned, but the truth was Cinnia had also been the girlfriend of a very rich man and had taken flack for it, even though that wasn’t how she’d kept their family afloat. “She always said there was good money in doing the tedious work no one else wants to do. I have a good memory and I read fast. I’m detail-oriented and I can be cutthroat when necessary. I love the idea of achieving something difficult by wielding fine print.”

“This is the sister who paid for your room?”

“No. I have three. The one who booked the room is married to a pro athlete. She travels with her husband and collects tons of points so she didn’t technically pay for it. This—” Siobhan indicated the designer jacket she wore over a snug cashmere sweater and pleated trousers “—I stole from another sister’s closet. She works in fashion. I take what fits and hope she doesn’t notice.”

“Ah. You’re not hiding from the law. You’re hiding from her,” he accused.

“Truth. She’s vicious when crossed.”

“Are they all in Australia?”

“No, we’re sprinkled everywhere.” This was getting too personal so she turned it around. “What about you? Siblings? Any crimes against them you’d like to confess?”

His expression lost all its ease. His gaze dropped to the glass he was pinching.

“I had a brother. He passed eighteen months ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t know.” He took a hefty gulp of champagne. “We’d grown apart. Things were complicated.” His expression shuttered and he looked out the window. “I feel strongly that I let him down so yes, in that way I committed a crime of negligence that I’m trying to make up for with his children.”

Oh. She understood that need to self-flagellate far too well. She couldn’t help reaching across to set her hand on his hard wrist, offering what little compassion she could.

“It’s so easy to believe there will be ample time later, isn’t it? You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to, but you can. I understand complicated very well.”

His gaze came up from where she touched his wrist. For a few seconds, she saw into his soul, where regret and glimmering coals of self-directed anger lived.

She felt the walls within her shift. They didn’t fall open, but they angled as though adjusting to nest against his. It became a shared beveled wall. It was the sensation of sitting back-to-back with someone. Not aligned, exactly, but occupying the same space.

He is lonely.

His hand shifted to take hold of hers and the mood altered again. Excitement flared within her, shocking in its intensity. There was a reciprocal flash in his eyes, one that made her skin burn where his thumb stroked across the backs of her knuckles.

“Let’s talk about something else,” he said.

“Something simple?” she suggested shakily, not moving her hand but very, very aware of how her fingers twitched in his loose grip. “Quantum mechanics, perhaps? Or fate versus free will?”

His mouth pulled sideways. “I lean heavily toward free will. You wouldn’t have got the job you wanted if you hadn’t applied. You wouldn’t be having a drink with me if I hadn’t invited you. You sat down because you wanted to.” His thumb skimmed across her skin again, short-circuiting her brain.

“But you wouldn’t have asked if we hadn’t wound up in the same elevator,” she challenged shakily. “Perhaps that was kismet.”

“Please,” he scoffed in that sinfully sexy accent of his. “I took one look at the attractive woman beside me and made a deliberate decision to shirk the calls I ought to be making.”

“Say more.” She was trying to hide that she was barely able to breathe under the lazy way he scanned her features. “I’m the mousy one so I’m usually overlooked.”

“Who are you comparing yourself to? Your sisters?” He shook his head in refutation, fingers shifting to twine with hers in a way that felt very intimate. Now his thumb stroked at the base of her thumb into her inner wrist. It was deeply distracting. Arousing.

“How…um… How would you know?” Her suspicions reared. “Have you met them?”

“No.” There was no subterfuge in his expression as he continued making love to her hand with his innocuous touch, sending signals into her chest that made her breasts tingle. “But I can’t imagine there’s any way to improve on perfection.”

A bubble of incredulous laughter escaped her. She flushed with pleasure, though. “Your efforts to seduce me are working.”

“I prefer to think of it as an invitation. It’s up to you whether you accept. Free will and all that.” He shifted his glass aside so he could use his other hand to reach across and brush a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. His fingertip caressed her ear and the edge of her jaw. “Would you like to order something to eat? Before we get drunk on champagne?”

“And each other?” It was a corny thing to say, but in her case, it was becoming all too true. She was losing her appetite for food and was no longer thirsty for champagne. She was falling into lust for the first time in her life.

“Mmm,” he agreed in a rumble. “You’re certainly intoxicating.” He brought her hand to his mouth and nuzzled his lips into her palm.

Every bone in her body melted.

This wasn’t the adolescent inquisitiveness that had driven her to kiss boys who were nothing but bravado and hormones. It wasn’t the romantic infatuation that had drawn her into the bed of a dishonest man. This was something exciting and enthralling. A pull that was filled with promise. With need.

She had agreed to have a drink in a seize-the-day impulse. It was another step toward coming out of her self-imposed exile. She had already been high on being chosen for her merit, not her connections. This was another octave of that. He knew nothing about her except what she’d told him. It felt good to be desired purely for herself.

It felt good to feel. For the first time in a long time, the numbness of betrayal was falling away. She felt feminine and desirable and brimming with her own sexual power. She felt like indulging herself.

“Why don’t we take the champagne to your room?” Her voice thickened with a mixture of shyness and the eroticism that was taking her over. “We can order food later.”

“That is an act of free will I can get behind.” He kept her hand as he rose and drew her from her chair.