***This Is A Preview***

It was a classic church wedding and I'd spotted him sitting in the front row, frantically trying to make a rebel lock of dark brown hair lie flat. It made me laugh quietly and I hadn't had a reason to laugh for quite some time.

I was almost sure that I hadn't seen him at the rehearsal dinner, so I wondered to what extent he knew or was related to the bride.

Natalia, my brother's wife-to-be, was the daughter of Enzo Abano; the man behind the famous ice cream brand. Their peppermint chocolate chip happened to be my go-to favourite when my thoughts scrambled or went uncontrollably dark.

Our family had a far humbler origin story. Dad was a retired chief of police and mom was a high school teacher.

My brother's relationship with Natalia started not long after he was hired as general counsel for the Abano's charitable foundation.

Their modern love story had caught everyone in a swirling tornado. They went from being a social media celebrity couple, to being engaged, to ready for the altar within eight months' time. I was one of only a handful of people that knew the beautiful bride was already pregnant.

As best man, I was supposed to pay attention to the ceremony... I was supposed to remind my brother to breathe if he started stuttering his vows...

Yet all I could focus on were the steel grey eyes that had locked onto mine, seemingly able to peer into the cold, dark depths of my soul.

When my brother started to stumble on his "p's", I had to divert my attention. Then the wedding hustle and bustle kept me busy until I could finally relax at the dinner table.

I'd recently kicked a pill addiction but that wasn't going to stop me from downing the expensive red wine that Enzo himself had selected. It was truly exquisite and after the fourth glass, I was feeling more than just a buzz.

Once dinner was over, Dad took Mom to the dancefloor, Grandma went to bed, Uncle Peter found a fixed spot at the open bar and Aunt Susan and her boring new husband were chatting with the Berkeley's.

I was the last occupant of table number two, when my mystery man suddenly slid into the empty seat beside me, clutching a scotch on the rocks.

He seemed tipsy but not drunk.

I'd made three separate tours of the large Elysium hotel ballroom, in order to "casually" bump into him but he'd once again been absent.

"Can you clear up something for me?" he asked in a deep, sexy baritone. "Back in the church, did we... you know?"

"You'll have to be more specific," I said, taking a coy sip from my glass. Why did I find him so appealing?

"Alright," he said, rubbing his chin. "For a single breath, the world stopped turning as I was pulled into a gaze that screamed with the voices of a thousand lifetimes. An old soul desperate for a meaningful encounter with a kindred spirit, even if only for a fleeting moment."

Holy fuck! I felt my cheeks burn and it wasn't from the wine. Was this some sophisticated line he used to sweep people of their feet or...

"Warlock's Son Season 2, Episode 4," he said with a lopsided grin. He was very nice to look at and I was sure that he knew it.

"I never watched that show. I'm not a big fan of the fantasy genre," I said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Are you serious?!" he asked, as if personally offended.

I quickly tapped my thumb against all four fingers before holding out my hand, "Dillon; brother of the groom."

To my shock, he gently kissed it and said, "A pleasure, Dillon Brother of The Groom."

He made me blush for the second time and I could see in his eyes that he was enjoying it.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, shaking the ice cubes in his empty glass.

What?!

"Please, don't tell me they've been charging you for drinks! My dad is paying for the open bar and if he finds out..."

He once again pushed past the boundaries of my personal space by putting a hand on my knee and saying, "They don't serve what I drink at the open bar, Dillon Brother of The Groom."

"Can you stop calling me that!" What was it with this guy? He was as infuriating as he was charming.

"The bar in my room has whatever you want," he said, a key card having magically appeared in his hand.

He put it on the table and very slowly pushed it towards me. Then he leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Forty-fourth floor."

I sat there, glaring at the room key as if it were a coiled snake ready to strike. Was this really happening? I found the idea completely insane yet wildly exciting. Were my thoughts going to find a way to sabotage me, if I decided to follow through?

I grabbed the key card and walked straight toward the lobby. Forty-four was the very top floor, I was even required to swipe the key to access the penthouse.

Who the hell was this guy?

The moment of truth. I'd never been in this situation before, and it would probably never happen to me again. I desperately needed to know where this would take me.

After carefully opening the door, I walked into the room with my eyes half closed. He stood there looking out over the stunning view of The City before turning to face me.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I thought I could do this, but I can't."

I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding and said, "I've been shaking since I got into the elevator."

"For once in my life, I wanted to do something completely out of character."

"How about we just have that drink you promised," I said, nervously tapping my fingers. What was it about this guy that had me so intrigued?

"I'd like that," he whispered. "Although, I don't understand why you're still here after my failed attempt at being recklessly impulsive."

"Oh, you didn't fail," I said nervously. "You had me totally convinced that we were going to... you know."

"You'll have to be more specific," he said with a ghost of a smile.

"Dillon Francis," I said, holding out my hand. "Nice to meet you."

"A pleasure, Dillon," he said, shaking my hand. "I'm Noah Black."

Why did that name sound familiar?

My phone buzzed, Carter; my brother needed me. I wasn't qualified to be anyone's best man but after my attempt at taking my own life, everyone was trying to keep me involved. They wanted to make me feel like I belonged... like I mattered.

Deep down, I knew the truth.

It was one of the many reasons why my pill-addled mind told me to permanently step out of this world, four months ago.

Then, my thoughts suddenly took a sharp turn.

I instantly managed to convince myself that Noah's ego matched the size of his opulent hotel room and that he'd probably craved a quick distraction from today's event because it wasn't about him.

"I need to go," I said, putting down my expensive drink. Both my thumbs were tapping my fingers in rapid succession.

I was offering Noah an easy way out of his botched experiment, yet he insisted on joining me on the elevator ride down. Would he give up if I made him suitably uncomfortable? I decided to ask him some probing questions.

"So, what is that you do exactly? Are you a banker? An arms dealer? What kind of job pays for a hotel room that size?"

I expected him to be offended, but instead, he laughed. Apparently, not everything had been an act, he was still very charming.

"I'm the creator of something many people seem to enjoy," he answered cryptically.

"That was hardly an answer."

"What happened?" he asked, suddenly serious. "I thought we were having fun and then you just... switched off."

"Let's not do this. You clearly needed a quick snack for your ego but the..."

I couldn't finish my sentence because he gently kissed my lips.

He tasted like extravagance, and I already knew that I'd be left wanting more.

My mind was apparently allowing me to enjoy this because for the first time in a long time, it didn't have anything to say.

The fact that the elevator door could open any second made things even more intense. Had I misjudged him? Or had my thoughts betrayed me once again?

He pulled away and said, "I looked at you because you're beautiful, I invited you up because you looked back."

I didn't know what to say. The elevator pinged and gave us hardly any time to compose ourselves before the doors slid open.