Chapter One
The Billionaire's Dangerous Nurse
Miles
The last place I want to be right fucking now is my mother’s ballroom.
I kill my Porsche’s engine and let the quiet sit heavy for one second. My hands won’t stop shaking. They twitch against the steering wheel in small, sharp bursts that feel like electricity under my skin.
Nine days sober.
Nine days since the party earlier today. Nine days since I promised myself I wouldn’t crawl back into a bottle. My body disagrees with the promise.
Fucking hell.
The valet opens the door before I’m ready. Cold air elbows into the car, and I straighten my jacket, pretending I’m steady. The walk up the stone steps feels longer than it should. My thigh aches. My temple pulses. My nerves thrum, and I feel like shit.
Inside, the Hayes estate ballroom is so bright that it hurts.
Chandeliers blaze overhead.
Crystal reflects light in every direction.
The quartet plays a soft melody, but my skull vibrates as if the sound is drilling straight through my bone.
Mother always goes all out for her birthdays, but seventy-five is basically a coronation. Long tables dressed in white linen. Silver so polished it blinds. Staff in crisp uniforms weave between guests. It’s elegant in that suffocating old-money way.
Everyone else seems fine with it. I’m the only one wincing and squinting from the sensory overload.
My brothers are already here.
Theo is wearing a black jacket with sleeves rolled up, looking like he didn’t even try and still ended up the best dressed. Emery leans into him, whispering something that makes him shake his head with a slight grin.
Lucky bastard.
Sebastian sits straight-backed beside Olivia, both of them sharp in tailored clothes made for photographs and magazine spreads. He glances up when he sees me, concerned for half a second before he smooths it out when I give him a nod. His longtime bodyguard and friend, Marcus, hovers around him.
Why the hell does he have a bodyguard with him at a party?
Julian looks like he doesn’t want to be here as he stands with Victoria and Declan. Declan waves hard enough to nearly tip over the juice box he’s holding. Victoria catches it with reflexes that say she spends a lot of time catching things just before their son drops them.
They all look stable. Paired up.
I’m alone, jittering like an alcoholic piece of shit.
I nod at them, hoping I look normal. My legs feel like wet rope, but no one needs to know that. Especially not Mother. Especially not now.
Mother sweeps over in her silver gown, sparkling at the sleeves, hair pinned in an elaborate knot.
“Miles,” she says warmly and touches my cheek. “You okay?”
“Yeah, Mother.” My smile feels stitched on. My hands stay buried in my pockets so she won’t see them tremble. “I’m perfect.”
Mother looks around, and I wonder if she just had a recent meeting with her plastic surgeon. She looks much younger than she did when she dropped by last week.
“Happy birthday, Mother,” I say, clasping her shoulder lightly and leaning in for a kiss on the cheek.
“If only you could make me as happy as your brothers with a wife of your own.”
This again?
“Mother, not now, okay?”
Mother throws me a glance. “If not now, then when?”
The servers carry out giant covered bowls, and I make a beeline for them, seizing the opportunity to excuse myself. “Ooh. It’s time for the feast.”
We take our seats. I slide into mine at the far end, grateful for distance, for shadows. I adjust my jacket sleeves again, not because they need adjusting but because I need something to do with my fingers. The tremor’s worse when I stop moving.
The clinking of glass feels sharp as Sebastian gives a toast to our mother.
Someone laughs too loudly, and it hits my nerves. I breathe through it. In. Out. Focus on the table. Focus on anything—anything but the goddamn urge.
Theo leans slightly, speaking quietly across the space between us. “You look like you’re spazzing out, man.”
His eyes catch the twitch in my fingers. He always sees too much. Maybe that’s why he’s in the security business.
“Peachy,” I mumble.
His eyebrow lifts. He doesn’t push. He never pushes unless absolutely necessary.
Sebastian looks over. “You sure you’re alright, Miles?”
“Christ, I’m fine!” I say, maybe too fast.
My chest tightens, and my thigh muscle jumps. The craving hits like a warm hand closing around my throat. My brothers see it. They know withdrawal when they see it. I look away before the pity lands.
Julian fills the silence. “It’s Mother’s birthday. Let’s try to keep things calm.”
“I’m calm,” I say.
Theo grins into his drink. “Sure, you are.”
The quartet shifts into another piece. The melody slides low, threading through the air. My skin prickles. The tremor spikes. My vision edges with static. I grip the underside of the table until my knuckles feel bruised.
Mother lifts a glass for a small toast, her expensive bracelets chiming.
I can’t hear what she says. The words dissolve under the pressure building behind my eyes. I swallow hard. Sweat collects at the back of my neck. I focus on the way the flame of the candle moves, how it flickers in unstable patterns, as if it knows something is about to snap.
And then—
Every light in the room dies.
Not a flicker.
Not dimming.
A complete, suffocating, soundless drop into black.
I don’t move.
For a heartbeat, no one does.
The quartet cuts off mid-note. Glasses hit tables. Someone gasps. Chairs drag. I jump out of my seat.
My pulse hammers against my ribs.
This kind of darkness isn’t normal. This isn’t a fuse pop. Not in this house. The emergency lighting blinks alive a second later.
Then I see them: armed men.
Four at the sides. Three near the exits. Two behind the birthday banner. Some dressed like security. Some like catering staff.
All holding suppressed rifles. All are already in position like they rehearsed it. People scream. People freeze.
Then one of the men sprays bullets into the roof, and people yell. “If your name isn’t fucking Hayes, get the fuck out of this room now!”
There’s silence at first, then the man squeezes the trigger again, and all the guests at the party scream as they rush through the doors, leaving us to our fate.
“What the fuck is going on?” Sebastian asks Marcus, who looks around, unable to believe what’s going on.
Just us left.
Marcus, who didn’t leave despite not being a Hayes, goes for his concealed pistol, but Seb touches his arm to stop him. I can tell what Seb’s trying to communicate: He’s outgunned and outmanned. It’d be foolish to engage.
“Who the hell are you guys?” Theo asks the armed men. “What the fuck do you want?”
I can’t breathe. I look around, and I see Victoria hiding Declan behind her, the kid looking terrified. I’m suddenly glad I don’t have anyone who I have to look after.
Sebastian starts to speak when a man steps forward through the door and walks towards us, a grin on his face.
Holy fuck.
It’s Damien Sinclair.
“Well, well, well.” “There’s something about crashing a party that’s just so damned exhilarating.”
Mother steps back, knocking a glass over, and I immediately glance over at Theo. My brother’s expression is unreadable, and I wonder what the hell is going through his mind.
Sinclair looks at Theo. “Son.” He nods at him.
Theo’s lips press into a thin line. “Sinclair.”
We found out two years ago that our family’s mortal enemy is more than just that. He’s the father of one of us, and he and my mother, Eleanor, had an affair a long time ago.
Damien looks around and smiles.
He isn’t wearing a mask.
Not even sunglasses.
Just a dark suit that hugs his tall figure, crisp tie, hair slicked back with a kind of arrogant neatness that says he’s not worried about being identified.
He stands at the head of our table and drops a manila envelope beside Mother’s untouched birthday cake.
“Good evening,” he says calmly.
The sound slices clean through the panic.
No theatrics. No shouting. Just a voice so cold it stabs. My throat tightens. Damien doesn’t look like a man who’s been on the run from the law for human trafficking.
Hell, he looks… good.
“What do you want, Damien?” Mother asks, a slight quaver in her voice. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here because you,” he says, raising a gloved finger and pointing it at us, “ruined my goddamn business, and I thought it’s time you felt some of the heat, too.”
Oh, fuck.
“The terms,” he says, opening the envelope with two fingers, “are straightforward.”
Mother’s breath catches.
Sebastian stiffens
Theo’s hand shifts under the table like instinct is telling him to make a move, but logic is telling him not to.
“Anyone wanna read it?” Sinclair looks around, smiling. “Anyone? Declan?” Sinclair looks at my nephew.
“You stay the hell away from him,” Julian says, moving to hold his wife and son. “Tell us what you want and get out!”
“Let you be?” Sinclair bursts into loud laughter, as if it’s all a game. Then he opens the documents and reads:
“First. Sebastian Hayes will sign over the majority control of Hayes & Co.”
His eyes lift, bored. “Immediately.”
Seb’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t speak.
“Second. The Hayes brothers will publicly confess that I was framed in the trafficking case.”
The room fills with a thick, choking silence.
“Third.” Sinclair glances around like he’s surveying the dinner decor. “Two billion dollars. Liquid. Delivered discreetly.”
I find my voice since I’m the family’s CFO. “Liquid? You fucking kidding us?”
His men adjust their grips.
“You have a very, very short time to do these things,” he says. “After that, I start making examples.”
His gaze shifts toward Declan.
Mother’s hand flies to her chest. Victoria pulls Declan close. Olivia swallows hard, eyes darting for exits that no longer exist.
Theo half rises.
“Sit,” Sinclair says.
Theo freezes, muscles taut enough to snap.
The pressure behind my eyes explodes. My nerves misfire. The tremor yanks at my hand. I try to breathe, but my chest feels locked. The weight of the red lighting turns everything into a nightmare that’s happening too fast and too slow all at once.
I’ve suddenly had enough.
A sound punches out of my throat. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Sinclair’s head turns. Mother’s eyes widen. Theo curses under his breath. Seb looks like he’s ready to throw his chair.
Sinclair walks toward me with measured steps.
No rush. No tension. Just inevitability. I meet his eyes as he stares me down. Then, before I can make any sense of it, he lifts his coat and raises a Glock. I realize I haven’t moved. I couldn’t if I tried.
Everything narrows.
The shot hits my thigh, and the world tilts. My chair goes backward. The table edge slams my ribs. I hit the floor hard enough to knock the air out of me.
Sound comes back in fragments.
Someone’s screaming. Mother’s voice is cracking. Theo is shouting my name. Blood rushes in my ears.
The wound burns like something is eating through my leg. Warm liquid spreads fast, soaking the fabric and pooling under me.
I push up on my elbows.
My vision smears, but I see Marcus move toward me from the following table. He’s fast and fearless, the way he always is when shit goes sideways.
Two of the men turn their rifles on him before Sebastian can even shout. Marcus doesn’t get a warning.
The shot blows through his head.
He drops next to me so suddenly that the air seems to collapse around us. The shriek that comes out of me isn’t human. My fingers reach for him. I touch his warm skin, see his eyes already unfocused, and see the way his body twitches once and then goes still.
Mother screams. Declan sobs. Victoria crumples against Julian.
Sebastian slams a fist on the table hard enough to shake silver.
Theo lunges again. “You son of a—”
“Move,” Sinclair says softly, “and the next one is the boy.”
Theo stops mid-step.
His whole body shakes with rage.
Sinclair turns to him. “You could have allied with me, Theo. You still can, son.”
Theo’s voice is rough. “I’m gonna kill you, Sinclair.”
Sinclair stares at him for three long seconds, unreadable. Then he gives a slight nod to his men. “We’re done here.”
They start to pull back.
Sinclair walks out last. At the doorway, he looks back just long enough to make sure the fear roots deep.
“You have the terms. Don’t make me ask twice.”
Then he disappears into the dark.
Mother rushes toward me. Julian grabs her arm and holds her back because he’s afraid she’ll slip in the blood. Sebastian kneels beside Marcus, touches his throat, and presses his forehead to Marcus’s shoulder with a sound that guts me.
Theo drops to my side, hands working fast, pressure on my leg, voice low even though his eyes are blown wide with panic.
“Miles. Stay with me.”
I try.
But the edges of the room are already collapsing inward. The sound dims like someone’s turning down the world. I’m losing blood. I feel myself going into shock.