Chapter 1

Back in college, I bought myself a boyfriend.

He stayed with me. I paid off his grandfather's six-figure medical bills.

A full-ride genius, swallowing his pride to be mine for four years.

Then my father got swept up in a federal financial fraud case. Everything vanished overnight.

When we broke up, he was cold. Didn't say a single word to make me stay.

Years later, I'm dancing at a strip club. He's the founder of a tech company, dating our college's former cheerleading captain.

He asks me: "Any regrets?"

"No."

"Well, I have one."

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Of all the ways I imagined running into Evan Corwin again after graduation, this wasn't one of them.

I'm a dancer at a strip club. And tonight, he books me.

The lights pulse wild and electric. I twist inside a giant martini glass, water lapping against my skin, while the crowd below howls and whistles, hurling fistfuls of cash at the stage.

I'm the eye of the storm, same as always.

But my attention,every last shred of it,snags on him.

I can barely hold it together.

Before going on, I threw on a mask and a wig, desperate to keep him from seeing my face.

Now, I peel off one layer at a time, drawing fresh screams, more bills, hungry stares from every direction,and the whole time, I'm watching him from the corner of my eye.

Stella Voss sits right next to him.

They look disgustingly perfect together.

There's a plate of artfully sliced oranges on Stella's side of the table.

A long time ago, when I used to love oranges, Evan would always cut them for me. The way he handled a knife was almost obscenely attractive,each slice precise, uniform, arranged on the plate like a little work of art.

I used to joke that he had to be a secret assassin.

Back then, I thought he loved me.

Turns out it was just his perfectionism talking.

Four years apart. Feels more like half a lifetime.

Somehow, my routine drifts closer and closer to his section.

*Damn it.* I should be putting distance between us.

God knows if I get any closer, he might recognize me.

But clearly, one of Stella's hangers-on already has.

She leans over, loud enough to be heard over the bass: "Hey,didn't Evan have a girlfriend in college? Four years together or something?"

My hand freezes mid-reach for my bra strap.

Evan doesn't take the bait.

The woman shifts in her seat, a little awkward, but pushes on: "Four years, though. That's gotta be hard to forget, right?"

Silence settles over their table like a still river.

After what feels like forever, Evan lets out a quiet laugh.

"Hardly."

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