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“Good night,” I raise my glass to him. “If you figure out why women want what they want, let me know.”

“I think they want love.” He sets his tumbler on the table.

“I should go too.” Fisher rises to his feet. “There’s no keeping up with either one of you when you decide you want to drink yourselves into a stupor.” He follows Jacob out the door.

“Alright, old man.” I chuckle, feeling the warm effects of the alcohol seep through my arms and legs.

As soon as I’m alone, my thoughts rush back to Paloma. Is she sleeping now? I check my watch. It’s past ten, which according to the Senator, is way past her bedtime. I shake my head. Who keeps a bedtime for their grown children? Yes, Paloma is dedicated to her work. But she can decide for herself when the fuck she goes to bed. And Hunter is no better, cutting into our dance because it was late.

Images of Hunter gripping her arm like she belongs to him flood my mind. I shoot to my feet and head for the bar cart. At least now she’s away from their grasp. She’s mine now. She’s safe with me. I pour two more fingers of whiskey and drink deeply from the glass.

In the back of my mind, all I see is Hunter’s crystal swan sitting proudly in Paloma’s room. Is she thinking of him right now? Is she crying in her sleep because she knows she’ll never see him again?

Jealousy rears its ugly head. I reach inside my pocket and stare at her neat writing. I’d rather starve…than spend any amount of time with you. I finish her sentiment in my head. I’m walking out the door and going up the stairs, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t interfere anymore. If she wants to keep her memento and think about Hunter, that’s her choice.

I put the key in the door and turn it quietly. Over the past week, I have become an expert at stealing a few moments with her every night. Precious air fills my lungs as soon as I enter her room. The French doors are closed, but I know they stay open most of the day. It’s why her room smells of fresh fir, burned wood, and her. To my right, the fireplace is still going, which makes the room warmer than it needs to be.

Touching my fingers to my lips, I stand by the foot of her bed and watch her sleep. Her night gown is hiked up to her waist and she’s kicked most of the covers off her. My palm itches to touch her skin and feel the strength of legs around my waist again. She’s delicate and strong.

My gaze flicks to her pillow where the swan shimmers, reflecting the firelight. I grip the footboard tight. She went to sleep thinking of him. I amble to her side and grab the crystal. For days, I’ve considered stealing it again. But I wanted her to at least have one thing from her past life. That was me trying to be benevolent for her, which is something I’m not. I drop the crystal in the pocket of my trousers and allow myself a single caress of her cheek.

I make to move away, but then she turns her face to meet my fingers, and I’m frozen in place. It would be so easy to climb in bed with her right now. To claim what’s rightfully mine. I wrack my brain for all reasons I’ve come up with as to why her and me can’t be.

My favorite one is where I pretend, I’m the hero, who saves her from her psychopath of a father, and her insipid boyfriend. On nights when I’m particularly hating myself, I’m the coward who’s too afraid of what will happen when she learns the truth. Once she finds out I’m the one who destroyed her father, she will hate me. She’ll hate me even more when she realizes she was the key to it all, that I used her to get to him.

I let my fingers hover over her cheek, down her neck, and stop at her pebbled nipple. I allow myself the slightest touch. She squirms as a quiet moan escapes her lips. “Yes,” she murmurs, bringing her legs together and turning away from me, so now I have a spectacular view of her shapely ass.

“Fuck.” I fist my hands and leave her room.

The next few days, I keep busy at work, helping Fisher prepare for their trip. He hasn’t decided after everything is set and done with the Senator if he’ll stay with us. I will miss the old man. But that’s a choice he must make for himself. As for Gardenia, she’ll follow him wherever he goes. I’ve gotten so used to having all of them close by.

The dinner invitations I now leave daily under Paloma’s door for breakfast, lunch, and dinner are piling up in my desk. Her response is always the same…. I would rather starve. All caps. Though Mary Jane informs me Paloma does eat.

She has even ventured out to eat breakfast in the kitchen, which is why I woke up at the crack of dawn today and cut my daily workout in half. Like an idiot, I’ve been pretending to drink water in the kitchen for the past half hour, waiting for her to show. I convince myself that it can’t hurt to see her for a few minutes.

I turn off the app on my watch and decide it’s time to head to the office, so Paloma can have the house to herself. I amble to the fridge and grab a protein shake to take to my room. When I close the door, she’s standing there. She’s as surprised to me see as I am to see her. Jesus, how long has it been since I’ve seen her face in the light of day.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Good morning.” She blushes as her gaze drops from my eyes down to my lips, then my bare chest.

“I was just leaving.” I stalk toward her. I could walk around her, or around the kitchen island, or move to let her pass, but then I would miss the opportunity to feel her body heat and to see her squirm the way she does in bed when she sleeps. She glances down and steps aside to let me through. Her fingers brush mine, and it takes all of my self-control not to bury my hand in her hair and force her into a kiss.

“Archer,” she calls after me when I reach the kitchen door.

“What’s with all the suitcases?” she asks.

“Fisher, Gardenia and Jacob are going away. They’re doing something for me,” I answer.

“You’re not going?” She leans on the counter.

I want to pick her up, sit her ass on the cold marble and…

“I mean.” The red on her cheeks travels down her neck. “If you’re not here, maybe I can go see Dad. He’s just a few miles down the road.”

“No,” I deadpan.

“Why not?” she fires back and the soft light in her eyes is gone. “It’s been weeks. He could be ill.”