1.

Hunter stepped into the elevator and tugged on the sleeves of his black Prada blazer.

He was late.

On purpose.

Which was an asshole thing to do, given it was his brother Fletcher's engagement party.

He wished they'd all stop getting engaged. By they, he meant his two brothers. Both had. Which left him as the sole Dufort bachelor.

And didn't the New York media know it, and regularly mention it.

He hated the spotlight being on him and had been relying on Fletcher to remain single and uphold his title as the Playboy of Manhattan. Then he'd gotten all hot and heavy with his PR manager and was now engaged, a stepfather to Olivia's daughter, Sammy, and expecting a child.

Their older brother, Daniel, was getting married to his Kiwi girlfriend, Harper.

How in the holy fuck did that all happen?

The brothers had all sworn off marriage in their late teenage years after watching their philandering father destroy their mother.

Well, he wasn't going to lose his mind like those two airheads.

The likelihood of that happening was very low given his tastes.

And he wasn't talking about whiskey.

Which he very much liked.

His bedroom tastes, if one could call them that given he rarely made it to a bed when fucking women, were darker than that of most people.

He wasn't a sadist.

He just needed to be in control.

Complete control.

His style wasn't for everyone. Nor were the women who enjoyed being submissive to a dominant lover the type, generally, to be looking for marriage.

Although those who learned his surname quickly changed their mind.

Dufort.

He was a billionaire.

So were his two brothers.

As equal majority shareholders of the Dufort Dynasty, a legacy that included the global Dufort Hotel group, the three brothers were all the penultimate bachelors Or had been.

With good looks and charm on their side, along with their bank balances, thanks to their father Johnathan Dufort, who had created the company, women wanted to marry them, and men wanted to be them.

Or fuck them over.

It was the cold hard truth they had all learned very quickly.

So, no, Hunter wasn't concerned about falling into matrimonial bliss. And that wasn't why he had purposely delayed attending Fletcher and Olivia's engagement party this evening.

The elevator doors opened.

He was immediately greeted with the smells and scents of a cocktail party, along with Fletcher's multi-million-dollar view.

"Good evening, sir." A roaming waiter with a tray of champagne greeted him.

"Evening. I'll have a whiskey please. On the rocks," Hunter replied.

"Yes, sir."

He didn't bother smiling as he made his way through the crowd. Everyone knew he was the brooding type, so why prove them wrong? He hated large groups, much preferring one-on-one time with people, or smaller social events.

This was just the tip of the iceberg. There were two big weddings to follow these damn engagement parties. Daniel's would be in the middle of summer which was only a month away.

"Nice of you to finally arrive, dickhead," Fletcher said as he joined his brothers in the living room.

The waiter arrived with his whiskey.

"Cheers. Happy engagement and all that." He ignored his brother and gave Olivia a grin.

Broody he may be, but he had all the Dufort charm and knew his hazel eyes and dimples worked their magic.

"Thank you, Hunter," Olivia said and accepted his kiss on the cheek.

They weren't strangers. Olivia had worked for their company for over two years now and as the director of sales, he worked closely with Fletcher and his marketing team.

"Welcome to the family," he added.

"Right where she belongs," Fletcher said, wrapping his arm around Olivia's back, and kissing her forehead.

The two stared into each other's eyes like total idiots so Hunter turned away and surveyed the crowd for the woman he was avoiding.

Because he was avoiding her, very much.

It had been a month since he last saw her.

Since he met her one night at Olivia's when her daughter Sammy had been kidnapped by her ex-husband.

It was the most inappropriate time to meet a woman and want to fuck her into complete submission.

But that was what had happened.

Not that Hunter had fucked her. And likely never would.

He suspected Addison Hill was as vanilla as they came. Someone needed to tell his cock that.

Hunter had dropped her off home that night and it had been awkward. She was clearly overwhelmed by his wealth and being so close to him. He'd lost count of how many times she'd blushed and looked away from him.

Yet, he'd had an erection the entire drive home and if he hadn't had a t-shirt on covering his damn jeans, she would have seen it. Although he doubted she had the courage to look at his groin without dying of embarrassment.

He'd made small talk with her, casting looks down at her, as he worked his way through the New York traffic, and she'd chatted easily enough.

Addison was gorgeous, there was no doubting that. Her short wavy blond hair looked more suited to California than New York, but he could tell she was a stylish woman. She wore a pair of distressed jeans, a white crop top and a long dark cardigan, with boots.

That hint of skin above her jeans had been fucking with his head since he walked in the door of Olivia's house.

While he wasn't completely disengaged from the trauma of finding the missing child—because the situation had totally infuriated him—his eyes kept drifting to Addison.

Given the opportunity he'd unzip those jeans, rip up her top and suck on those breasts while fucking her with his fingers.

Then he'd make her wait.

And the games would begin.

She'd caught him looking and he'd snuck her a slow dirty smirk. Her blush had given him pause. She could be the perfect submissive, but something told him she wasn't.

He probably could have left it there, but when he pulled up at her building Addison had turned to him from the front seat of his Aston Martin and lowered her eyes.

Fuck, his cock had fought to get out of his jeans.

She'd tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and those eyes of hers had slowly lifted and locked on his, looking for instruction.

He'd taken her chin in his hand. "Be careful what you ask for, Addison."

Her lips had parted, and he couldn't look away from the glistening invitation inside.

"I will take everything you have to give if you want to play. If not, I recommend you hop out of the vehicle now."

As Hunter watched her mind swirl, trying to calculate the risk versus pleasure—if she even knew what he was offering—the clock ticked.

He began to think she was going to nod.

Her eyes had dropped to his crotch.

He'd smirked.

"You want to try before you buy?" he asked, raising an amused brow.

Then her gaze had shot to his, and he'd known. She had too much fire in her. She would be fun to break, but she was Olivia's friend. It was too close to home.

He dropped her chin and leaned back in his seat.

"Goodnight, Addison."

"Wha—"

"Goodnight, Addison," he repeated. "Trust me. This is for the best."

The dark look she had given him only confirmed he'd made the right decision.

Except those lips, that skin, and her sexy ass as she'd run into her building had haunted him.

Now, tonight, he would see her again.

And he wasn't sure he could say no a second time.