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Maeve A Wilson wins or dies trying. My father drilled that into me before I could spell ""inheritance."" Nothing and no one gets between us and victory. That's why Pierce St. James is a problem. He's the only person alive capable of matching me move for move... and the one man I cannot afford to lose to. We used to be close friends, but one stupid argument ruined that. When this is all over, only one of us will be a winner. And I'll burn the entire city to the ground before I let it be him. Our arrangement is simple. Temporary. No strings. A pressure valve that lets me focus on what's actually important: winning. Good thing I've yet to meet a challenge I couldn't master-or a game I couldn't win. Pierce I don't do forever. Hell, I barely do brunch. But Maeve Wilson? She's not a woman-she's a shark in red lipstick. Gorgeous. Brilliant. Lethal. And absolutely the last person I should let anywhere near my bed... or my heart. We're locked in a battle where only one of us can win. The other gets exiled. But the longer we circle each other, the deeper we sink, and the harder it is to pretend she's just my rival. And if I'm not careful, I'll lose more than the game. I'll lose her.

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