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Just waiting and watching Kirsten from afar isn’t enough for me anymore. I want her to see me, to talk to me, even if it’s to call me a son of a bitch and tell me she hates me.

She hates me. That’s what she said. It’s why I sent the orange lilies. And I’m stupid for her, which is the reason I added the pink gardenia. I’m turning into a pussy whippedcoglionelike Creed and Dre.

Kirsten hates me, and I’m so obsessed with her that I waste all my time hoping for a glance of her.

Tonight, I’m planning on more than a glance. She’s headed to a charity fundraiser, and while I don’t have an invite, I have a few ideas on how to slip inside the hotel ballroom to see Kirsten up close and personal.

Kirsten

Thirty minutes of smiling and kissing ass at the American Heart Association dinner after a full day of work reviewing all the police reports in the Bertelli investigation, and my toes are so numb I can’t feel them. I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed.

There are still a few big donors I need to say hello to before I make my escape, though. I’m on my way over to speak to a rich tech mogul when a server unabashedly shoveling shrimp into his mouth grabs my attention from the other side of the ballroom.

A big, attractive server with dark hair and eyes staring right at me.

Oh my God.

Tristan Ferraro has some nerve showing up here. I want to go over and slap the smirk off his smug-ass face. But I can’t. The best thing for me to do is just pretend I don’t see him, to forget he’s here.

Before I glance away, he bites into another shrimp and tosses the tail onto his serving tray. When he licks his lips without the least bit of remorse, I unfortunately find myself thinking about those lips on my body, in one particular area.

Right, so first I need a moment in the restroom, and then I’ll finish schmoozing so I can get the hell out of here.

The women’s restroom is empty as I step into a stall and take time to calm my nerves. I’m not going to let that asshole get to me. I can’t. What I did with him was just sex. Everyone does it, and it’s no big deal. So what if he has videos of me in compromising positions? We had a deal that I kept. Nobody will ever see them.

Except for him.

I wonder if he’s watched them repeatedly since that night.

I hate to admit that I’ve glanced at them a few times myself, mostly mortified at my behavior but also a little aroused.

Stupid gorgeous mobster. I wish I could forget seeing his muscular, tattooed body naked.

Pulling my floor-length dress back down, I flush and open the stall door, only to find the man of my nightmares leaning his ass against the sink with that damn tray still in his hands, his ankles crossed leisurely.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“What are you doing in here? What are you doing here period?” I head for the sink that’s the farthest from him.

“I like watching you when you don’t know I’m watching you. It’s fun.”

“You need to stop stalking me. How did you even get in here?”

“I paid the catering company to let me pose as a server. Have you tried the shrimp? They’re fucking delicious.”

“Eating any sort of food in a restroom is gross, but especially shrimp.”

“Would you rather I eat you in the restroom?” he asks with a grin I can hear in his voice as I avoid looking at him.

“Ineverwould’ve let you come near me if I had known who you were.”

In the silence, I glance at him, finding a frown on his face and hating I couldn’t resist looking at him again. “Well, you made the mistake of not asking who I was, so that’s on you. And you just hate that it was so good with me. Do you ever think about that night?”

“No. I want to pretend it never happened.”

“Too bad. It did and I know you’ll never forget it no matter how hard you try.”

“I should have you arrested.”