Page 23

Oh no.

I glance nervously at Keiran, but he's still deep in conversation with Michael.

Phew.

"We were never a thing," I whisper to James. "That was just all my dad's wishful thinking." I'm hoping that would be the end of it, but James proves surprisingly persistent, and he comes up to me just as we're all about to walk out.

"So..." James' gaze darts between Keiran and me. "Does this mean you two are exclusive?"

Since I'm supposed to be Keiran's mistress, I say right away, "No—-"

"Yes," Keiran says at the same time.

And that's when I realize I'm about to die if I don't figure out a way to dig myself out of this.

"No," I say again with the brightest smile I could muster. "No, as in no, you're not mistaken."

James stares at me, confused. Keiran's expression doesn't change, but the temperature around us seems to drop several degrees.

Oh, I'm so dead.

When we get inside the limo, the privacy window slides up with a soft mechanical whir.

Oh no.

"Get on your knees."

I freeze.

He doesn't raise his voice. Doesn't even look at me when he says it, his gaze fixed on the tinted window as the car pulls away from the curb.

"If t-this is about Grant—"

"This is about reminding you who you belong to."

Um, doesn't that mean the same—

"Now."

His savage tone makes me forget everything else. My hands move before my brain can stop them. I sink to the floor of the car, heart pounding as I reach for him.

His hand settles in my hair—not yanking, not guiding. Just... holding.

His other hand unfastens his belt. Moves with infuriating patience.

I don't rush.

Not because I'm teasing. But because I want this to matter.

Because I remember the way he used to look at me. Like I was the only thing in the world he wanted.

And even if this is just a way to mark me—to control me—I want it.

I open my mouth.

He groans, low and rough, as I take him in. One hand tightening in my hair, the other curling against the window behind him.

The car turns. I shift with it, my hands steady on his thighs.