Emma’s POV

"People change." He pulled me against his side, and I fitted there perfectly. "When you meet the right person, everything changes."

"How long has this been going on?" Victoria's eyes narrowed on me. "You weren't at the Singapore summit last month."

"Three weeks," I lied smoothly. "We met at an art gallery. Marcus couldn't stop staring."

"At the art or at you?"

"Both," Marcus said, pressing a kiss to my temple. "But mostly her."

Victoria's smile got sharper. "How sweet. Though I wonder what Ryan Blackwood thinks about his wife moving on so quickly."

The blood drained from my face. She knew. Somehow, she knew.

Marcus's hand tightened on my waist. "Ex-wife. Or soon to be. Ryan made his choice when he chose her stepsister."

"Oh my." Victoria's hand flew to her throat in fake sympathy. "Your own sister? How devastating. Though I suppose you're used to Blackwood men and their... complications."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"Didn't Marcus tell you?" Her smile was vicious now. "He has quite the history with complicated relationships. Just ask his brother."

"Victoria." Marcus's voice was deadly quiet. "Don't."

"His brother?" I looked between them, confused.

"Oh dear. He really didn't tell you." Victoria touched Marcus's arm, and I wanted to break her fingers. "Marcus has been estranged from his family for ten years. Some drama about a woman, wasn't it? Or was it the money?"

"It was about betrayal," Marcus said coldly. "Something you'd know all about."

"Pot, meet kettle." She turned back to me. "Be careful, sweetheart. Blackwood men have a habit of keeping secrets. Expensive, dangerous secrets."

She walked away, leaving the scent of expensive perfume and destruction in her wake.

"What brother?" I asked as we sat back down.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does if it affects our arrangement."

Marcus drained his champagne in one swallow. "I have a younger brother. We haven't spoken in ten years. End of story."

"That's not the end. That's barely the beginning."

"Emma—"

"No. If we're doing this, I need to know what landmines I'm walking into." I leaned forward. "What did your brother do?"

"He existed," Marcus said flatly. "He was my father's favorite. He got everything handed to him while I had to fight for scraps. When I finally built something of my own, they tried to take that too."

"They?"

"My father. My brother. The woman I thought I loved." He poured more champagne with steady hands, but I could see the tension in his jaw. "They conspired to steal my first company. Thought I was getting too successful, too independent. So I left. Started over. Built an empire they couldn't touch."

"And you never went back?"

"Why would I? They showed me who they really were." He looked at me then, really looked at me. "Family isn't blood, Emma. Family is who shows up when you need them."

My phone buzzed. Ryan again: "Where are you? The lawyer needs your signature."

Marcus saw my face. "What does he want now?"

"The divorce papers. He wants me to sign them tonight."

"Are you going to?"

"I have to eventually."

"Not tonight." He stood, throwing money on the table. "Tonight, you're mine."

"Fake mine."

"Real enough." He helped me up, his hands lingering on my arms. "Dance with me."

"There's no dance floor."

"There is at Eclipse. Chicago's most exclusive club. Where, coincidentally, Victoria's best friend works."

"You planned all this."

"I plan everything." He led me toward the door, pausing to kiss my hand where Victoria could definitely see. "But I didn't plan for you to look so beautiful it hurts to remember this is temporary."

"Marcus—"

"Just business, I know." But the way he looked at me said otherwise.

Eclipse was everything I wasn't: loud, crowded, exclusive. The bouncer knew Marcus by name. The VIP section materialized like magic. The champagne appeared without anyone ordering.

"I don't belong here," I said over the music.

"You belong anywhere I put you." He pulled me onto the dance floor before I could protest.

I didn't know this song, but it didn't matter. Marcus moved like dancing was just another form of combat, all controlled power and dangerous grace. His hands on my waist made me forget about Ryan, about Victoria, about this being fake.

"Relax," he murmured against my ear. "You're thinking too hard."

"I'm thinking about how everyone's staring."

"They're staring because you're stunning." He spun me out, then back against his chest. "And because I never bring women here."

"Never?"

"Never." His hand splayed across my lower back, pressing me closer. "You're my first."

"Your first fake girlfriend?"

"My first everything in a long time." He dipped me, and I gasped, clutching his shoulders. When he pulled me back up, our faces were inches apart. "This doesn't feel fake, Emma."

"It has to be."

"Why?"

"Because in two weeks, you'll go back to your empire and I'll go back to my life and—"

He kissed me. Right there on the dance floor, with half of Chicago watching. Not a gentle kiss. Not a fake kiss. A kiss that branded me, claimed me, ruined me for anyone else.

When he pulled back, I couldn't breathe.

"That wasn't necessary," I whispered. "Victoria's not even here."

"I know." His thumb traced my lower lip. "I did that for me."

"We had rules—"

"Screw the rules." He kissed me again, softer this time. "Some things can't be faked."

My phone rang, shattering the moment. Ryan's face on the screen felt like cold water.

"Don't answer," Marcus said.

But I already had. "What?"

"Where the hell are you?" Ryan's voice was slurred, angry. "Sophia saw you at Chez Laurent with some guy. My wife doesn't get to whore around—"

Marcus took the phone from my hand. "Ryan Blackwood?"

"Who is this?"

"Your new boss. And Emma's new man." His smile was sharp as a blade. "See you Monday morning. Don't be late."

He hung up and handed me back my phone. "That felt good."

"He's going to be furious."

"Good." Marcus pulled me back into his arms. "Let him be furious. Let him wonder. Let him realize what he lost."

"What if he doesn't care?"

"Oh, he'll care." Marcus's eyes were dark with promise. "Men like Ryan always care when someone else touches their toys."

"I'm not—"

"You're not a toy. You're a goddess. And on Monday, when he walks into that boardroom and sees you on my arm, wearing diamonds he could never afford, smiling like I'm your whole world?" He leaned close enough that I felt his words on my skin. "He's going to wish he was dead."

"You said that before. About making him wish he was dead."

"Did I?" His hand tightened on my waist. "Must be the champagne talking."

But I didn't think it was. There was something personal in the way Marcus hated Ryan. Something deeper than just my situation.

"Marcus? Is Ryan your—"