He watched Katherine leave.

Jesus, that went well.

If this was love, it sucked.

He got up when he heard the bathroom door shut and finished dressing while Kate was in the shower. The streets were still quiet as he walked the few blocks home. The front door opened before he reached it. His major domo stood at attention beside the pedestal table with the large flower arrangement in the center of the entrance hall.

Dominic nodded good morning to the boy who’d opened the door and spoke politely to the older man who ran his London household. “No calls today, Martin, no visitors either. I don’t want to be disturbed. Unless Miss Hart calls.”

But she never did.

He hadn’t really thought she would.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Kate swore in the shower and swore while she dressed, swore before and after she tried to force herself to eat breakfast, calling Dominic every name in the book. At least it was better than showing up at work red-eyed and splotchy-skinned from sobbing her heart out. She found a cab at the corner and checked her e-mail on her phone as she was driven to work.

She shut her office door the moment she arrived. She normally didn’t, but her emotions were shaky as hell and there was no point in having to explain possible tears to more or less strangers. The day passed in a blur. She ate candy bars for sustenance, which was actually the norm prior to meeting Dominic Knight and his host of personal chefs. She’d always consoled herself that Snickers had peanuts, so protein—right? And the sugar high from the candy was a requirement today when her life was so screwed. But her senses automatically responded to a computer keyboard and screen so she was able to function at a tolerable level, her brain navigating the cyber world on autopilot. Although, she wasn’t the only one screwed that day. She closed down a hefty list of vulnerabilities, flagging a GTFO before she shut down the hackers’ entry points.

At the end of the day, one of the other consultants invited her to join a group going out for drinks. She briefly hedged, thinking, Go, go! Don’t be stupid! Then she smiled and said, “Maybe next time,” because she was already depressed and drinking would only make it worse.

But the minute she reached her flat, she called Meg and whined about no-good men who married other women for no apparent reason and Meg said, “What a fucking liar. I hope you found someone else to sleep with tonight.”

Kate laughed. “I’ll go out and drag someone in off the street.” And she felt a couple degrees better.

“You better fucking mean it,” Meg yelled over the phone. “Although maybe someone you know, someone at work, would be less risky,” she added in a more thoughtful tone. “Send me a picture of the fun.”

Then they talked for a couple hours about badass men, past and present, laughed more than they cried, compared notes on their jobs—Meg’s, fabulous and fun, Kate’s, fabulous and fun when she wasn’t crying, and both ultimately decided that at their age life was still golden—alive with promise and legions of men waiting to be laid.

Before they hung up, Meg asked cautiously, “Are you going to tell Nana?”

“Absolutely not,” Kate said. “Especially not about his marriage. I’d get a lecture for not being more careful about the company I keep and all the while she’d be wondering how I could be so gullible. You know Nana—she’s anything but gullible.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. Anyone would be tempted. The man’s beyond gorgeous even without the money.”

“And unfortunately a grade-A ass. But since Nana already knows the son of a bitch left me once, she won’t be surprised he’s gone again. So whatever I decide to tell her will be more or less the same old, same old. Speaking of same old, you’re still with Luke. That’s a record for you.”

“I just like him. He’s dependable in a serene, unhurried way—easygoing and calming when I’m wired. And he’s great in bed and not one bit demanding.”

The word demanding instantly evoked flame-hot memories that Kate worked furiously to suppress. She wasn’t about to recall all the sensational pleasures inspired by a demanding Dominic—making her do things for him, things that—Stop! Stop! Sucking in a breath, she said as calmly as she could, “Great in bed is definitely on my wish list.”

“I’ll be expecting reports on your sex life,” Meg commanded with her usual glass-half-full enthusiasm. “Look how much fun you had with what’s-his-name. Believe me, he’s not the only one with a dick who knows how to use it. Now don’t disappoint me. Got it?”

There was only one acceptable answer for Meg. “Got it,” Kate said. “I’ll let you know.”

And she actually meant it. After talking to Meg she was in a much better frame of mind. Meg saw men as functional objects with dicks she could use. Really, it made sense. Why get involved?

While Kate survived the day at CX Capital, Dominic stayed in his library and drank. Max called. He didn’t pick up. Max came over. He had Martin turn him away. So Martin brought in a note from Max with his wedding date and time scrawled in large print with a note at the bottom. Danelli villa at Fiesole. Morning coat.

Dominic swore, tore up the note, muttered under his breath, “Morning coat, my ass,” poured himself another drink and finally, late that night, locked the door to the library so he wouldn’t go to see Katherine and make what was bad worse.

He came awake on the couch the next morning sputtering and swearing from the water Max was pouring over his head. “I locked the fucking door,” Dominic growled.