“Dixon,” Chad happily says, extending his hand. “How lovely to see you. Did you just arrive?”

“No, I actually drove down a few days ago,” I explain, pressing the call button and ignoring the predatory eyes of the brunette by Chad’s side. “I needed to get out of the city.”

“Ah, yes, New York can be rather taxing. Have you enjoyed your stay so far?” he asks as the elevator cart stops on our floor.

As we enter, the brunette makes a point of standing rather close to me, and I make a point of subtly moving away. “Yes, it’s been wonderful, although I haven’t had much of a chance to sightsee. I’ve been working on my paper.”

“Oh? More research into neurobiology and addiction?” he asks, and I nod. “I love what you have presented thus far; your findings are rather genius. All book work? Or a bit of personal experience?” he asks with a smirk, watching the floors tick by above his head.

“A bit of both,” I reply, and move back a fraction, as this bold brunette just shifted a touch closer.

“I would love to hear your theories. Are you free tomorrow for a round of golf?” he asks.

“Sure, I would love to,” I reply, and practically storm out of the elevator when the doors open. “Meet you in the lobby around nine thirty?”

Wrapping his arm around the tart’s tiny waist, he proudly says, “Yes, that’s perfect. Rebecca loves golf, don’t you, honey?”

“I sure do. I can’t wait to see you on the greens,” she replies. She can’t be serious.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Chad says. “I have to show this little beauty off to my jealous colleagues.”

She giggles, throwing me a flirty wink over her shoulder as we enter the ballroom, while I head straight for the bar. After that god-awful experience, I need a scotch to settle me down.

The bartender gives me a small smile as she sneakily slips me a double shot.

I take my drink and decide to work the room because I’ve already seen half a dozen people I want to talk to. This is what these functions are all about. For people to big-note themselves, for others to boast and brag about the millions of dollars they make, and for people like me to get to the top, using my brain rather than my wallet to succeed.

I’ve made a name for myself, and for that I’m proud, but unlike the majority of fossils that are here, I’ve done so through hard work and keeping in touch with the newest theories and studies. Yes, I may have fallen off the wagon, but I’m back on it, and I’m determined to win that award next year.

Two hours later, I’ve worked the room and spoken to everyone I wanted to chat with. My theories were debated by almost every person, but when I explained the facts, nearly all seemed to understand my approach.

Most faces I recognized, but some I didn’t, and those were the ones I made sure I got to know. I have made some new allies this evening, and the ones I already had were singing my praises. I may be a failure in my personal life, but career-wise, I’m fucking nailing it.

Making my way over to the bar, the same bartender from earlier spots me and reaches for the scotch with a smile.

“Make that two,” a voice to the left says.

I turn and see Chad’s wife or mistress, or whatever the hell she is, standing beside me, a sinister smile marring her ruby red lips. “We weren’t formally introduced,” she says and extends her hand, her bracelets jingling with the movement. “I’m Rebecca.”

Accepting her hand, I shake it lightly. “Nice to meet you, Rebecca. I’m Dixon,” I reply, letting go of her hand, as I’m afraid she’ll shove it down the front of her purple dress.

“So, Dixon, you wouldn’t happen to know what they do for fun around here, would you?” she asks, her finger skirting around the rim of her glass once the bartender places our glasses on the counter.

Trying to remain cool, I smile. “You have looked around, haven’t you?” I ask, twirling my pointer. “No fun will be found in a room full of doctors.”

She grins, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “Well, how about you and I go make our own fun?” she suggests, dipping the tip of her finger into the scotch and wetting her lower lip with the liquid.

Jesus H. Christ, no foreplay with this man-eater. She’s just gone in for the kill in under sixty seconds. I’m impressed. Too bad she’s completely and utterly off limits.

“Thank you for the very tempting offer,” I say, reaching for my glass. “But I’m going to have to decline.”

“Excuse me?” she replies in disbelief. “Just in case we’re not clear, that was an offer to fuck your brains out. Free of charge.”

Free of charge. Is she a hooker? No way would Chad bring a prostitute to this thing.

Remaining calm, I nod. “Oh, we’re clear. But I don’t think your husband would appreciate me banging boots with his wife.”

Scoffing, she leans in closer, purring into my ear. “He’s not my husband…yet. And besides, the old fart will be asleep by eleven. I need a real man to satisfy my needs, not a Viagra-popping grandpa.”

Well, Rebecca is not one to sugarcoat, well…anything. She’s obviously with Chad for the money, as he’s ridiculously loaded. He’s also a well-educated, highly intelligent man, but it goes to show you even the smartest of men get lost in the garden of the forbidden coochie.

I don’t feel so bad now.

“How ’bout I just blow you then?” she suggests like we’re talking sports.

“Again, thank you,” I say, stepping away. “But no.”

“Are you gay?” she retorts, hand on hip, unbelieving a heterosexual man could turn her down.

With a smug smile, I shake my head. “I’m very much straight, peaches. I just don’t want to fuck you. I’ve been around your kind for far too long, and as of now, I’m detoxing.”

“That can’t be true. I’ve been told you were a sure thing,” she says, looking annoyed.

Her comment has me stepping in closer, not wanting anyone to overhear what she just said.

“Excuse me? Who told you that?” I ask, horrified.

Rebecca looks around the room, obviously trying to spot the culprit. “Her,” she finally says, pointing over my shoulder.

I can’t stop myself and I quickly turn, not caring that I appear desperate. The moment I see her, I curse myself for not guessing who it was sooner.

“She said that you like to fuck, and like to fuck hard,” Rebecca states into my ear, while I cringe, listening to the words that have come back to bite me in the ass.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, my eyes locked with Juliet’s as she gives me a smug wave from across the room while sipping her champagne.

“I’m first in line,” Rebecca says, latching onto my arm as I make my escape.

I discreetly pull out of her clutches, not wanting to make a scene. “There is no line,” I bark, my patience wearing thin. “I don’t know what Juliet told you, but I assure you, they’re all lies.”

“Juliet? She told me her name was Sarah,” Rebecca reveals, looking at Juliet and narrowing her eyes. Juliet no doubt gave an alias, as she was hoping to remain undetected as the culprit who has just turned my night to shit.

“See, there you go. If she lied to you about her name, what else did she lie to you about?” I say. Not sticking around to hear her response, I politely push my way through the crowd and storm over to Juliet in record speed.

“Dr. Mathews,” she purrs, her lips tipping up into a devious smile.

“Can I have a word?” I snarl under my breath, gripping her bicep.

Thankfully she doesn’t object and comes with me as I practically drag her outside and onto the balcony. There are a few people smoking out here, but most are too wasted or caught up in conversation to notice me snarling at her, about ready to toss her off the railing.

“What are you doing here?” I say, the hostility clear in my tone as I release her arm roughly.

“I’m here because you invited me to attend,” she replies, smoothing out her gold-colored gown.