“You’re sure you saw her? Talked to her?”

  I knew what he was getting at. "Yes. I didn’t bloody imagine her. The damn woman glitter-bombed me.”

  His lips twitched. “Glitter-bombed?”

  I gestured to my suit and my hair. It was almost as if that was his first time looking at me properly.

  “You’re serious?” he asked.

  I knew what he was getting at. I wouldn’t be the first Price to lose my shit. “Yes, asshole. I’m not making her up. She had gorgeous luminescent brown skin and an ass that probably will cause me problems."

  My brother chuckled softly. "Um, no, I didn’t see her. But you’re waxing poetic about some woman. Are you sure you’re okay? Did you hit your head?"

  I snarled at him. "No, I did not fucking hit my head. Her name is Gwen something-or-other. Get Pierce on it."

  "You want me to get Pierce on finding a woman for you? Last I checked, you had women coming out of your ears. Not to mention, we’re supposed to be out here convincing Becker that you’re marriage material."

  I rolled my eyes and headed toward the stairs, only to see several waiters picking up remnants of a discarded tray and a woman marching down the hall. Just not my woman.

  Your woman?

  That thought gave me some pause as I looked for Gwen. The other woman turned slightly before heading into the ballroom, and from the profile, she resembled Gwen, but she was definitely not her. She was shorter.

  "Fuck." I turned back to my brother. "What were you saying about Becker?"

  "We’re at his table. We need to get in front of him. It looks like he wants to make a deal with Bronson Jacobson."

  I ground my teeth. Fucking Bronson Jacobson had been a thorn in my goddamn side for years. The fucker was my constant shadow. He'd gone to Harvard with me for grad school. And then we'd both interned at Google where I’d gotten to see his supposed work firsthand.

  Typical nepo baby tech bro. He was lazy, shady, and cut corners. But his parents had a fuck-ton of money, so he always seemed to land on his feet. And while I generally didn't pay him too much attention, he saw himself as my perpetual competition. So when he found out Pendragon was going after new technologies, specifically, our artificial intelligence applications, his company started doing the same.

  "What does Bronson want Becks for?"

  "Like us, he wants that algorithm. The software that the facial recognition is built on is what he's after. While we want to use it in building better modeling for prosthetic integration, he wants to use it for commerce and likely military applications since he got that NSA contract last year."

  I muttered a soft, "Fuck," under my breath.

  "Yeah, so let's fucking get in front of Becker right now and change the narrative. Oh, and please put on the face."

  I followed my brother back down the other hallway toward the ballroom, where I apparently had to put “the face” back on. Whatever the fuck that meant. I knew how to play the game. I'd been playing it my whole life. I learned from the manipulative master himself. “Don’t get your hopes up. If rumors are right, he’s not selling unless the sales comes with marriage to one of his daughters.”

  “Which makes me worry about what the daughters look like. But it might be a win-win.”

  “Nobody forces my hand, ever.”

  I hadn't realized I was searching for the woman from the balcony when we walked in until I saw a flash of white as everyone was milling about. She was near the stage, talking to someone. Oh yes, Dr. Riza Hamann. She was one of the experts who had done the introduction at the beginning of the benefit. Talking about the research, the good work that they were doing and had done over many years. Excellent. Riza could tell me who she was.

  She flashed a smile at the doctor, and my gut tightened. Jesus Christ. She had a smile like that? Not that she’d used it on me. No. I'd gotten her brandishing a champagne bottle. And what was with the goddamn glitter? I glanced down at my suit, and I could still see a couple of patches of it as it clung to me. I knew better than to touch it though. Because that was the way with glitter. My goddaughter, Emery, loved this stuff. Every time I left Gavin's fucking house, I was covered in it. It stuck in your hair, on your fucking skin, in your orbit until it saw fit to leave.

  Micah glanced at me. "Mate, brush off the glitter, would you?"

  "There she is. That one there." But as I pointed, someone stepped in the line of sight as Micah tried to see.

  "Who the hell are you talking about?"

  She had shifted out of sight again. "Never mind. Where's Becker?"

  "There he is."

  James Becker walked with the assumed power of a man in control of his life. However, I knew that he was bleeding money and needed an infusion. Or better yet, he needed to sell off his research and development arm. He couldn't sustain it. They were a small tech company. There were some things they did well, but they'd been over-extending themselves for years. I knew even an influx of cash might not save them, but selling off their R&D arm would. My brother and I walked toward him, and many of the guests parted, knowing exactly who I was and to give me a wide birth.

  There was a woman with him, and her eyes went wide when she saw me. She was about his age. Maybe a little younger. Tawny skin, hair piled in an updo. She tapped her husband on the arm, and he turned and gave my brother a knowing smile.

  "Micah Price. I have to say, you are persistent."

  My brother flashed a grin that was so easy for him to find and access. "James Becker, you are a difficult man to get a meeting with. You know my brother, Atticus."

  I reached out and shook his hand. Becker's brow lifted for a moment. "Atticus Price. Interesting seeing you at the benefit. You don't usually do these charity gigs."

  "When my brother told me that it was difficult to get a meeting with you, I figured, what better way to have a casual conversation."

  Becker nodded. "There was a time, Price, when I came to you. Or have you forgotten?"

  Ah, so this was personal. "I was aware. However, at the time my father was in control of the company. He no longer is. I am, and I’d appreciate a moment of your time."

  I wasn't used to asking for anything. But I had to stop him from going to Jacobson, whatever that took. Even if it means marriage? I had to let him know that I wasn't fucking around and it was in his best interest to give me what I wanted.

  Pleasantries were exchanged, and then I saw her... “Just Gwen” was walking up to the stage. Her stride was confident. Her shoulders back. And then she approached the podium. Several guests started to mill to their tables.

  She spoke to someone downstage, and then Riza joined her and spoke into the microphone. "If everyone will just take their seats, I have a special guest I would love to introduce you all to."

  Riza gave a delightful introduction about a woman who had done a lot of charity work, traveled a lot, tirelessly raised money for their cause, and then called her a friend.

  Yeah, yeah, give me a fucking name.

  "Allow me to introduce Gwenyth Christin Becker."

  The fuck?

  My blood went cold, then molten hot. The woman with James clapped just a little bit harder, and I frowned. Christ Almighty... their daughter?

  Becker however, was paying no attention to the stage despite his daughter going up to speak.

  "If you want my time, I'm telling you now, Price, I'm not entertaining any offers for Becks Incorporated that don't come as a full partnership."

  My gaze skittered to him and then back at the woman. I could see it in the chin and the jawline. She was Becker’s daughter. Fuck.

  "What do you mean by full partnership? Of course, we wouldn’t be in partnership. We would be acquiring." He needed to say it.

  He shook his head. "You're missing the point. Becks stays in the family. If you're not interested in that kind of partnership, there's nothing to discuss."

  A spike of fury at his demands had me narrowing my gaze. My brother bumped my knee with his, telling me to calm the fuck down.

  This man was using her as his bargaining chip.

  On stage, Gwen started to speak, and her voice ensnared me once again. “Thank you so much for the warm welcome, Riza. Ladies and gentlemen, I would love to say thank you so much for once again attending the Hearts and Hope benefit. I can only hope that today, on what would have been my mother's fiftieth birthday, we raise money for other women like her who don't get to celebrate birthdays with their family."

  And then something happened that I didn't expect. Her words wrapped around my cold dead heart and squeezed. She had been doing some kind of ritual for her mother. On her birthday. Why do the benefit today? He didn’t give a damn about honoring her.

  The woman next to Becker sat in rapt attention as she listened to Gwen. But Becker was talking to Micah. The two of them were making arrangements for a meeting. My brother, ever the magician. He could talk anyone into anything, whereas I was the blunt instrument.

  I turned to Becker. He’d been jerking us around for months. He obviously wanted a better deal than he was entitled to. But knowing who his daughter was made a difference.

  A big one.

  "Pendragon is prepared to meet the terms you put forth. But our patience is running thin."

  Becker lifted his brow and sat back. "You're serious?"

  Was I? I’d just met the woman.

  But the idea of Becker marring her off to anyone else, made my fingers curl into fists. I found what I hoped was more of a smile than a snarl. "I'm always serious."

  “Then perhaps we can come up with a scenario that benefits us both,” he said, leaning back in his seat looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

  “Fine. Friday then. Let’s get something on the books.”

  I didn’t give a fuck about him. Our terms would benefit Pendragon and that’s all I cared about. But if it meant access to Gwen, then for once, I was willing to negotiate.

  To my brother, I leaned over and muttered, “Make a donation.”

  He gave me a small nod. “We already made one. The standard two hundred thousand.”

  Without taking my eyes off her, I said, “Make another for five million.”

  I could feel the heat of his stare, but I wasn’t paying attention to him. Instead, I gave my full attention to Gwenyth Becks, letting the seductive smoke of her voice settle in my bones.

  With the meeting with Becker secured, I placed a call to my head of security, Pierce Trent. "Yeah, boss?" was his terse response.

  "Get me everything you can find on Gwenyth Becker."

  “Full work up?”

  “Down to who her high school bully was. I want it all.”

  Chapter 3

  Gwen

  The last place I wanted to be this Friday morning was my father’s office.

  I'd always hated my father’s office. He’d taken minimalist to a whole new level. The words cold and barren were an apt description. The only saving grace was his view of the city.

  The other problem was the temperature. The chill of his office was legendary.

  He kept it at a balmy sixty-two because he felt like it kept everybody alert. The problem was, it certainly didn't keep him alert. His lack of concentration during long meetings was also notorious.

  When trying to get my father to make a decision, I had to be quick about it. The effort of keeping my father on task today, however, was Herculean. I could tell that his mind was somewhere else. We'd only been at this for fifteen minutes, and his attention span waned already. Of course the office was frigid, just like he liked it, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat across from him.

  I knew he didn't keep it this cold because he liked it like this. This was about power. He wanted everyone to be just a smidge uncomfortable in his presence.

  "We need to discuss the investment opportunities on the table,” I said. “At Turn Tech last month, several venture capital firms showed real interest in my team’s algorithm. I know we don’t want an investor, but we’re about to run out of time and funds if we don’t accept an offer. Or if you have another plan, I’d like to hear it."

  I placed the file on top of the three others I’d brought that needed his signature.

  "The first thing you'll see is the data I pulled from accounting and our operational budget.” I knew that should get him focused. I’d bombard him with information, then make a quick ask and move on. He admired efficiency.

  "Now, as we've discussed, we want someone minimally invasive. Hands off. I have options for⁠—"

  He put up a hand. "There's no need to discuss this further."

  My heart started to race, and my lungs fought for air. No. He could not give up. "Look, we’re on the same page about not looking to sell. It's the family company, Becks Incorporated. But we have hundreds of employees to consider, and we have to fight. We can’t just let all of this fall apart."

  There was another part I didn't say out loud. The truth of it all was that he had over-gambled, over-expanded. And honestly, I’d started digging and delving into areas that he didn't have the expertise on. We were better when we were small. Agile. There were departments that were definitely overspending. And the sales team needed to be reined in. But we could do this. We just had to be smarter. I couldn't let him sell us off piecemeal. For starters, everyone would lose their jobs. Some of my team had been with me since just after college. They’d bet on me. They deserved to have me fight for them.

  And then there was the obvious problem of parts of my software falling into the wrong hands. Artificial Intelligence had so many applications. Some of it could be used to do amazing things, but some of it could be used to do shitty things. Even something like facial recognition was a hot-button topic because of how those models had been built and who was building them.

  I’d only ever wanted to help people. But there were people like Bronson Jacobson who only cared about his pockets. And I would die before I’d just lay down and hand my life’s work to him.

  We couldn't just give up. "There are things we could do. I’ve still got some meeting with VC’s coming. I know there are some partnerships. I spoke to Wexler and Co.’s CEO; they would love to do a partnership and license my software. We have options. I just need a little time. Selling is ridiculous. You haven't even tried yet. I mean, really tried."

  He shook his head. But before he could speak, there was a knock at the door. "At last," he muttered.

  I glanced toward the door. "What are you talking about?"

  He didn't answer me but instead called out, "Come."

  Teresa, my father's executive assistant, opened the door. "Sir, Gwen, Mr. Price is here to see you."

  My stomach fluttered at his name. Hell, what was wrong with me? The Ice King made the long-dead butterflies come to life. I really was fucked in the head.

  He was the last kind of man I needed. The kind I’d learned not to trust. The kind of man who could eviscerate me and my life.

  But, like a fool, ever since the benefit a few nights ago, I couldn't get him out of my head. That slight upturn to his lips just at the corner, it wasn't a smile. Because God help you when he actually did smile. The damn thing was lethal.

  But never mind what he did to the butterflies in my stomach. What the hell was he doing here?

  My father pushed to his feet and straightened his tie. Why the hell was he trying to impress Atticus Price?

  You know why.

  We needed investors, but Pendragon Tech? They were notorious for their acquisitions. Carve up and sell off. Fire everybody.

  My stomach roiled. I had to find another investor. His company could fix everything for my father, but what would that mean to my employees? My people?

  Maybe I was over reacting. Maybe there was another reason he was here. But one glance at my father told me otherwise. "You can't be serious,” I said flatly.

  My father ignored me, going to meet Atticus. But Atticus’s gaze was on me, and the same crackling sizzle I'd felt the other night came back like a blast of wind.

  You know better.

  I knew better.

  Men like him are dangerous.

  Men like him were dangerous.

  But still, there I was, like a moth being pulled to the flame.

  Well, this moth would rather cut off her own wings than fly into that fire. But there he was in all his beautiful glory while the sizzling prickle danced down my spine. How could someone so strikingly handsome have the absolute warmth of an arctic penguin? Rigid as stone and zero heartbeat.

  Yeah, well, at least he doesn't sparkle like a damn vampire anymore.

  My lips twitched, and I bit the inside of my cheek. Unfortunately, he seemed to notice that, and he cocked his head slightly, the corner of his lips lifting as he watched me. "Ms. Becker. We meet again, Gwenyth."

  "It’s actually Christin-Becker."

  My father stiffened, and I internally danced my little dance of victory. Dad couldn't stand it that Morgan and I had hyphenated surnames, but our mother had insisted. But still, I watched, stricken, as the two of them shook hands. What was he doing here? Wasn't it enough that he’d barged into my dreams? Wasn't it enough that I hadn't been able to stop thinking about him?

  You never should have touched him.

  No, I shouldn't have. But there he'd been, dusted in glitter. It wasn't intentional, honestly.

  And of course, my father, being my father, started off trying to unsettle him. Which I appreciated because he was sure as shit unsettling me. "Let's hope you have something interesting to say, Price."

  My gaze swiveled between the two of them, and then the sickening realization hit. My father was selling research and development to him. "Dad, you can't be serious."

  "That's enough, Gwen."

  "Dad—"

  He cut me off. "Leave us. We have actual work to do."

  I prayed for a sign that my father was joking, that maybe he was just humoring Atticus, but he wasn't.

  "Dad?" I tried to find a hint of the father I had known once. The one who had been kind and listened. That man had vanished the moment my mother got sick.

 

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