Chapter One

He hated going to events. Too many people always asking the stupidest questions. Who was he dating? What was he wearing tonight? Asking for money. It was a waste of time in his eyes, but it was part of the job.

"A successful man is one who knows when to kiss ass."

That's what his uncle told him at the young age of 16. He was just starting out then, never in a million years would he have figured he'd be standing in a $3,000 Armani suit with a $4.5 million Breguet Antique Number 2667 watch on his wrist, standing in front of the flashing cameras of Philadelphia's journalists.

Ezra stopped and posed for pictures, staring into the cameras with his striking blue eyes as every woman visibly became flushed. Nodding, he stepped out of the limelight of the navy blue carpet and into the Museum of Art. His security guards followed on both sides of him, never letting anyone unknown get too close to him. The Great Hall buzzed with wealthy elites, sipping their champagne as they drowned on. It was all bullshit, a way for people to justify their millions that sat stowed away in their bank accounts.

With one wave of his hand, the two security guards trailing him dispersed, but they were never too far away. A young man touting a silver platter holding glasses of champagne approached him, offering him the drink, to which he eagerly accepted. Ezra stood contempt in the peace of the chaos, offering small smiles to the women who stared at him from across the room.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, being greeted by one of his mother's oldest friends, Helené. She hugged him as he reciprocated, kissing her lightly on the cheek as she smiled softly in admiration.

"You clean up well, my darling." She told Ezra, brushing off a piece of lint from his shoulder.

"It's in the Fitz genes. You know of all people know that," Ezra responded with a light chuckle.

She laughed, the skin gathering around her eyes to form the smallest wrinkles. She was just a few years older than his mother at the age of 56. Her blonde hair flowed neatly down her shoulders, her green eyes softening in the bright lights.

"You look just like your father," Helené said with a soft sigh.

"Unfortunately, I'm forever linked to that deadbeat piece of shit." Ezra responded with slight anger in his voice as he downed the rest of his champagne.

"Now is not the time to hash out your issues with your father," Helené responded. "Tonight is about your uncle."

Ezra opened his mouth to respond, instead feeling the weight of another persons body collide into his. Food went flying everywhere as he was knocked to the ground, hearing the weight of a silver platter clatter to the ground. His two security guards rushed out of the crowds, instantly going into the most protective mode.

"Shit…I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to run into you," Ezra heard a voice say as he found his footing.

A young girl wearing a white shirt with a restaurant style tie scrambled on the ground, trying to pick up the various appetizers she had just previously spilled moments before. Ezra started to chuckle, the girl oblivious to the quite large piece of bread hanging on the side of her braid. The girl huffed at him, agitated at the fact that once again, some rich dickhead was laughing at the waitress.

"I don't mean to laugh at you," Ezra said as he tried to hold in more laughter.

"Wouldn't be the first time some entitled dick got humor out of someone doing an unworthy job and completely embarrassing themselves."

Ezra was shocked as he began to laugh more. "Entitled dick? Is that what I am now?"

"Yes, an entitled dick," She responded promptly. "All the people here are nothing more than entitled dicks who use their bank accounts to justify being shitty in bed and having no genuine concern for the non wealthy."

"Ah. Well, I can guarantee I do not need my bank account to justify my performance in bed." Ezra responded as he extended out his hand to her.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Hotshot." She responded, completely ignoring his extended hand and pushing herself off the floor.

Ezra laughed as he pulled the piece of bread out of her hair, teasing as he popped it into his mouth.

"Excuse me, miss. I think there's been a problem. See, I've consumed a strand of hair which is just unacceptable for a man of my stature. Surely the correct person will be reprimanded," Ezra teased the girl as she cleaned herself up.

She titled her head, no trace of a smile seen on her face.

Ezra found her so intriguing. She was visually stunning, putting every other woman at the event to shame. He kept finding himself picturing her naked, her little server outfit piled on the floor as he drilled into her. She was feisty, taking no shit from anyone. Ezra liked that, he liked that she was real.

"What's your name?" Ezra asked the girl as she began to walk away.

"Take your pick and that's who I am," She responded, disappearing off into the crowd.

Ezra had never been more confused and oddly turned on as he did right now. There was something different about that girl. Something he couldn't put his finger on. She had to know the effect she had on him, it was impossible for her to walk around like that and not expect men to just fall at her feet.

He spun around, feet hitting the ground hard as he chased after her. She was making her way to the bathroom when he caught up to her, grabbing her arm and pulling into a nearby closet.

They were pressed up against each other, he could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She smelled like strawberries and vanilla, it was intoxicating. Her lips brushed against his, teasing him ever so slightly.

"I really want to kiss you, but I won't do it unless you want me to." Ezra stated, their foreheads pressed together.

Her eyebrows furrowed, leaning in ever so slightly.

"Goodnight Mr. Fitz," She said, lips brushing against his as she backed away, leaving him to his thoughts as she slipped out the door and disappeared, nowhere to be found.