While in the ladies' room, Ines checked her phone. There were no messages from Piper. Sighing, Ines dialed her boss's number. It went directly to voice mail.

"Piper, hi," she said. "Just wanted to check if you were still coming. John says he can reschedule if you can't make it."

Somehow she knew Piper wouldn't be coming tonight. But Ines did what she'd been asked, there was nothing more she could do. Thankfully, John was pleasant company. In the course of her work, she'd had to sit through countless meetings with people who were less than amicable.

She touched up her make-up. Seeing Kilborne tonight was an unexpected surprise, and after taking one look at his date, she'd become self-conscious of her own appearance. It was silly, she knew. No amount of make-up could put her in the same league as the knock-out sitting across him at the table. She was probably some actress or something: perfect hair, amazing skin, pretty face. And Ines was... well, she was pleasant enough to look at, she supposed.

But when Kilborne looked at her, she wished she could be more than that. His very presence in the room made her pulse race, and her skin flush. Disturbingly handsome. Those were the words that came to mind whenever she saw his face. If ever anyone ever deserved that description, it had to be him.

Earlier, she could feel his eyes on her as she walked away from the elevator. It made it hard for her to even just breathe. It made her fully aware of every step she made, every movement, every word she spoke to the receptionist. It made her wish she'd had time to put on contacts before leaving the house. Her eyeglasses didn't exactly add anything to her looks.

Now it would be disconcerting knowing he was just a few tables away while she was having dinner. Would he glance her way? He had absolutely no reason to give her any of his attention, especially when he had a bombshell right in front of him.

What if he did? Just once?

You want him to look at you.

She did. She could admit as much, at least to herself.

After a moment of indecision, she took out her lipstick and applied it to her lips a second time. She smiled at her reflection then laughed at how ridiculous she was behaving.

There, she thought, wrinkling her noise as she blotted her lips with some tissue. That's the best I can do. Mr. Kilborne, prepared to be underwhelmed.

That she was thinking of him could have been the reason she was completely unnerved when she saw him standing out in the hallway when she stepped out of the ladies' room.

It was as though her thoughts had conjured him out of thin air.

"Uhm... " she said, trying to figure out what to say. Of course he was probably coming out of the bathroom too. Why else would he be there? She cleared her throat. "Mr. Kilborne," she said, nodding. What was there to say, anyway?

He moved to block her path as she started to walk away.

"Ms. Andrada," he said. "You and I have unfinished business. If you'll be so kind as to get rid of your date—"

Dear God, his English accent sent a burst of heat down her core. She could barely register what he was saying.

"W-w-what?" On instinct, she took a step backwards. Something told her it was dangerous to be so close to this man. She breathed in the spicy, masculine scent of his cologne and her stomach did a few hundred flip-flops.

He closed the small space between them, sending her pulse racing. She took another step back and found herself flat against the wall. Her eyes grew wide in surprise. What was he doing?

"Your dinner companion — get rid of him. Be at my suite at nine o'clock sharp. The front desk will let you know where it is."

His suite. He was asking — no, ordering her to ... what was it he wanted exactly? She frowned, confused. "I don't understand."

"You said you had something to give me." His eyes swept over her face, as if studying her expression. "Let's have it then. Tonight."

Of course! Her manuscript. Did Kilborne want to read it after all? Relief brought a smile on her face. "Really? I thought... last time—"

"I changed my mind."

"Right." She nodded. "Uh ..." She glanced toward the restaurant entrance.

He caught her look. "You think it's strange I'd ask you to my suite when I have a date?"

"Oh I absolutely don't mind," she assured him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"It's just that she might. I mean, you are on a date." She knew she would be a little miffed if her boyfriend suddenly decided to have a work-related meeting during a romantic evening.

"Right." The corner of his mouth twitched, as though he was trying not to laugh. "Don't worry about it."

Did she say something funny? Ines thought as she stared up at him. His eyes were so blue. Like an ocean she would drown in. Happily. She blinked, trying to break the spell of his gaze. "Okay." She smiled. "I'll see you at nine?"

"Yes." After a beat, he stepped backwards.

She nodded and turned to leave. Her heart was still beating furiously as she walked back to her table. It was hard, but she forced herself not to look back at him.

Relax, she kept telling herself. She needed to behave like a professional. She was not going to blow this opportunity by appearing like some lovesick schoolgirl. And anyway, she'd see him again after dinner.

She couldn't wait.

***

After Ines had left, Mason made a call to his assistant.

"Jake, book me at the Hotel di Bianchi tonight."

"Yes, sir," replied Jake Lauder. "Do you need me to bring you anything from home?"

"Not at the moment. Listen carefully." Mason looked around him before adding, "I'm calling in a code red. Twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes. Got it."

Rachel smiled when he returned to their table. "I thought you were never coming back," she said, eyelashes fluttering.

"Forgive me," he said. "I had to make a phone call. How is your salad?"

"Great." She moved some greens around on her plate, but she kept her eyes on him. "I'm afraid I had a little too much wine tonight."

He cut into his steak. "Lucky you won't need to drive home, then."

"Neither will you." She bit her lower lip suggestively.

"I wasn't planning to." He cast a quick sideways glance at Ines before turning his gaze to Rachel. "I do have a chauffeur," he added.

"Right! Of course." Rachel shrugged, tossing her hair lightly over her shoulder. "I'm saying you won't be needing him."

"I suppose not."

She lowered her eyes coyly and took another sip of wine.

He felt a twinge of guilt. As much as he didn't want to lead her on, he couldn't seem to think of a polite way of telling her he'd invited another woman to his bed tonight.

I'm sorry, Rachel. You're a perfectly nice girl, but I have already made plans to spend the night with an escort.

What he intended to happen tonight must never get out. He already had a bad enough reputation as it was without having to add paying for sex to his list of sins.

Not that anything he'd been accused of did anything to tarnish the shine of his appeal to women. He'd never had problems getting a date. He knew it was his money, certainly, that assured his status as a catch. He had no illusions about that. And if things soured too quickly between him and a woman ... well, she couldn't say she hadn't been warned.

What would it take to turn a woman off? Only recently he'd been accused of cheating on his last few girlfriends, and was rumored to be the reason for the breakup of the female star of his last film and her husband, another famous actor. Media outlets knew better than to publish gossip about him, of course, but people still talked.

Then there was his supposed ... unusual sexual proclivities. Did people still think he liked to tie women up in bed, as a friend of one of his ex-girlfriends so enthusiastically recounted in blind items on her social media accounts?

Speaking of sexual inclinations ...

Ines didn't seem to mind the idea of a three-way. He supposed it was part of the job. But of course Rachel wouldn't be too happy to have another woman in their bed.

"I have to tell you, though," Rachel said, "Aalyah and I are good friends. I mean, I didn't know you two used to date until I mentioned you to Aaly last night."

"Aalyah Jones?" he said.

"She and I were in the same agency before she moved to Ford."

His jaw clenched. "I suppose you're friends with Chelsey Ashton as well?"

"Oh no. No way." She shook her head. "Chelsey's a two-faced bit— witch," she corrected herself. "She's always making up stuff."

She did. Mason knew this first hand. Why Chelsey would imply that he liked to play bondage games in bed, he had no idea.

An idea formed in his mind. He picked up the wine bottle and refilled her glass. "Always, you say?"

"Well ... yeah." Rachel leaned forward. "You don't really like to do that Fifty Shades sort of thing, do you?" she said, her voice low.

Mason kept his face impassive. "You don't believe it then?"

"Aaly's not the kind of girl who would ..." She shook her head. "She's just not that adventurous."

"Sometimes people can surprise you."

"You mean you really..."

"What if I do?" He smiled.

"I, uh ... I wouldn't mind."

"Really."

She nodded quickly. "I've always wanted to try it."

He could see through her bravado. "It doesn't frighten you?"

"I don't know how BDSM works per se. But if I had a good teacher ..." She leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. "It might be fun."

Mason had no idea how BDSM worked either. "Er, yes. Quite." This wasn't going as well as he hoped. "Perhaps if another woman who was more experienced were to join us —"

"What?" Her eyes grew wide.

He smiled. "You wouldn't like that?"

"You mean ..." She looked nervous.

"It's quite simple, Rachel." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I have a friend coming tonight. I want you both in my bed."

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