"You will never mention me or my favors, nor will you disclose what favors we trade. I am a ghost to you."
Or a genie. I think a genie is way less scary, don't you?
It's official.
I, Ainsley James, am crazy.
Desperate and crazy.
It's the only explanation as to why I'm nauseous, standing outside Maverick Lexington's door.
I mean, it's possible the stories about his deck of playing cards—with the words IOU scrawled across the back—are just rumors of the ruthless quid pro quo deals he barters.
But the flutters in my stomach know better.
Maverick is as cold as they come.
But, I need one of those cards.
I NEED to owe Maverick Lexington a favor...