By the time Emmanuel Sterling realized
the night was going to ruin his life, he was already too drunk to stop it.
The thought crossed his mind somewhere between the second glass of whiskey and the third argument with his mother, though he dismissed it almost as quickly as it came. Nothing ruined Emmanuel Sterling's life. He ruined other people's.
That was what his employees said behind closed doors, what his competitors whispered whenever his name appeared in the business papers, and what his mother never missed an opportunity to remind him.
At twenty-nine, Emmanuel was already the youngest billionaire in New York, the man behind Sterling Global Holdings and the reason several older businessmen had learned to choose their words carefully.
Tonight, however, none of that seemed to matter.
He loosened his tie as he stood beside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel's private lounge, staring down at Manhattan's glittering streets.
His phone vibrated again.
Mother.
He stared at the screen before declining the call.
It rang again.
He declined it a second time.
A third call followed.
“She's persistent,” Alexander said from the sofa behind him, amusement evident in his voice. “You know you could just answer her.”
Emmanuel turned slowly.
His younger brother was watching him with the irritating grin he always wore whenever Emmanuel was clearly in a bad mood.
“Do you want to answer it for me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then stop talking.”
Alexander laughed.
Emmanuel's phone stopped ringing.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then a message appeared.
If you leave this hotel tonight without speaking to me, don't bother coming home.
Emmanuel read it twice.
His jaw tightened.
His mother had always been good at turning ordinary conversations into battles.
He slipped the phone into his pocket.
“I need another drink.”
“You've had enough.”
Emmanuel looked at him.
Alexander immediately raised both hands.
“Fine. Your funeral.”
Emmanuel walked away.
He should have gone home. That was the sensible decision. Instead, he headed toward the private bar.
He had spent the entire evening listening to people discuss mergers, investments, marriages, and family alliances as though his life were another business deal waiting to be negotiated.
He was tired of it. Tired of being watched. Tired of expectations. Most of all, he was tired of hearing the same question.
When are you finally going to settle down?
Marriage had never interested him. Love interested him even less.
He poured himself another drink.
Then he noticed her.
She was standing alone near the other end of the lounge.
Emmanuel couldn't see her clearly at first because the lights were low, but there was something about the way she stood there that made him look twice.
She wasn't surrounded by businessmen.
She wasn't trying to get anyone's attention.
She wasn't even looking at him.
That, strangely enough, caught his attention more than anything else.
“Who is she?” Emmanuel asked.
Alexander followed his gaze.
“I have no idea.”
“Find out.”
Alexander looked at him, then at the woman.
“Since when do you ask me to investigate women for you?”
“Since now.”
His brother laughed under his breath.
“You're drunk.”
“I'm aware.”
“And you're staring.”
Emmanuel's eyes narrowed.
“I'm not staring.”
“You've been looking at her for the last thirty seconds.”
Emmanuel turned away.
He had no intention of approaching her. At least, that was what he told himself.
Then the woman turned.
Their eyes met.
And for one strange second, the noise around him seemed to disappear.
She didn't smile. She didn't look impressed. She simply looked at him before turning away again.
Something about that irritated him.
Emmanuel placed his glass on the bar.
“Forget it.”
He took one step toward the exit.
Then his phone rang again.
This time, it wasn't his mother.
It was his head of security.
Emmanuel answered immediately.
“Talk.”
There was a pause on the other end.
Then the man's voice dropped.
“Sir, there's something you need to know.”
Emmanuel's expression hardened.
“What?”
“We found someone inside the hotel asking questions about you.”
His gaze slowly shifted back toward the woman across the room.
The same woman was now walking toward the private elevator.
And for reasons Emmanuel couldn't explain, he suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that the night had nothing to do with alcohol.
“Where is she going?” he asked.
His security chief hesitated.
“Sir?”
Emmanuel didn't answer. He was already walking toward the elevator, and he had no idea that following her would be the first mistake of many.