Chapter 1

Ken Harding was the young master all of New York went pale at the mention of. Wild, reckless, cruel when the mood took him. And with me, and only me, he was different.

For me he gave up racing, the thing he loved more than his own life. For me he swore he'd never fight again. For me he even quit every bad habit he had.

Everyone said he loved me to pieces. And then I walked in on him with his arm around another girl, telling his buddies about me. "That good girl? Won't even let me touch her. Boring as hell."

So I turned around, kissed his worst enemy, and said, "Compared to his kissing, you don't even come close."

By the time Gwyneth James dragged me into the club, I was soaked through.

The cramps hit hard enough to drain the color from my face.

But the girl in front of me wouldn't let up.

"Lesley Fox, I told you a long time ago. Ken doesn't love you. He just likes to play. He's never serious about girls like you."

Gwyneth had her hair done in gorgeous loose waves, her makeup flawless.

Standing there with rain still dripping from the ends of my hair, I couldn't have looked more different from her.

She was Ken's childhood friend, a pampered, hot-tempered heiress.

She'd been openly in love with Ken for years and gotten nowhere.

So ever since I started dating him, she'd made a habit of coming after me.

"Whether he loves me isn't your call. I've told you before. When it comes to the two of us, I'll only ever believe it from his own mouth. I don't have time to play games with you."

I hadn't even wanted to be here today. Gwyneth had dragged me out when I felt like this.

"Lesley, sooner or later we're getting married. We match, family to family." Gwyneth pressed on, refusing to give it up. "A strong alliance, do you understand that? I'm the only one the Hardings will ever accept. Which means I'm the only one good enough for him."

I couldn't be bothered to argue anymore and moved to step around her, but she planted herself in my path, blocking me.

"You—"

I lifted my eyes and met hers, brimming with amusement.

She spoke with contempt, with the confidence of someone who already knew she'd won. "Want to know why I brought you here today? You said you'd only believe it from his mouth. Fine. I'm giving you the chance."

Gwyneth said this was Ken's private club, the place he came specifically to hang out with his friends, open only to the children of the elite and their circle.

But this place... I'd never once been here.

"Lesley, doesn't that tell you everything?" Gwyneth led the way, a cold smile tugging at her lips.

That smile, that tone, so sure of victory, left a faint uneasiness gnawing at me, though my face stayed calm.

Against her needling, I chose to say nothing.

Then we reached the corner by the lounge area, and in the crowd I picked out that familiar figure at a single glance.

The Ken in front of me wasn't quite the one I usually saw. The dim purple light traced the sharp lines of his profile, and half-drunk, he wore a lazy edge, his eyes darker, more magnetic. The loose strands at his forehead were a little mussed, his black shirt rolled up at the arms, and in one hand, knuckles clean and defined, he held a clear glass, swirling it idly as he lounged back against the couch.

This Ken felt like a stranger to me too.

And yet this was the same person who, just that afternoon, would bury his face against me all shy the moment I said I liked him, clinging to me and begging, "Come on, please say you like me one more time."

I followed the line of his black shirt to the left, where a striking girl lay draped against his shoulder.

A few of his buddies sat clustered around him in twos and threes. Wherever a man like him went, he was always the center of everything.

Something sour rose in my throat, and my feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, without even the strength left to step forward and go inside.

"Young Master Harding, how long has it been since you came out with us? Ditching your boys the second you've got a girl."

One of the friends beside Ken complained, and the others chimed in.

"Heard you put a ton of effort into that little girlfriend of yours lately. First time I've ever seen you sweat that hard chasing someone. Then again, you still reeled her in, didn't you."

The baby-faced rich kid. I knew him. He was one of the guys who was always trailing after Ken.

And the one sitting closest to Ken, steadier than the baby-faced one, reached up and touched the frame of his glasses before he spoke too. "Yeah, never seen you go this all in on any girl before. What, don't tell me you're actually serious this time?"

The girl in Ken's arms heard them and gave him a mock-scolding little punch.

He didn't mind. He just laughed, picked up his glass and swirled it, careless, as if remembering something, as if turning it over in his head. Then he slowly tipped his head back and drained it in one swallow. And gave his answer. "That good girl? Won't even let me touch her, boring as hell. I just hadn't run into one that stuck up before. Was curious what it'd feel like to win her over."

One sentence, and it hit me like lightning, every drop of blood in me freezing where it was.

The enormous pain in my chest came with a helplessness I didn't know what to do with.

I stood there rooted to the spot as tears blurred my sight in an instant.