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From anyone else, that’d be a horrible pick-up line.

From her, it’s sincere.

Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to reveal all these secret, hidden places to her.

I shrug. “I’ve got escape routes in almost every function hall in Forsyth. Maddox Hotel’s basement rec room is the funnest, but this is the best view.” I loosen my tie, watching as she casts a glance out over the water. “It’s like I can’t fucking breathe down there.”

As I’m undoing my top two buttons, Verity bends down to unbuckle her heels.

Great idea.

I kick off my own shoes and sit in the lounge chair, hoping it doesn’t collapse under my weight. “Thailand,” I say, suddenly.

She frowns. “Er, what?”

“Armand.Armie. Trudie’s son,” I clarify, watching her hands. I wonder if she’ll touch me again. “He’s fucking his way through Thailand.”

“Oh.” She wrinkles her nose, perching on the other seat. “I guess that tracks.”

“Yeah, he’s a prick. A former Prince, actually. One of Autumn’s. He took off the minute he was cut loose of his duties.” I pick up a tiny sandwich, giving it a sniff, but instead, swap it for a petit four. Cruelly, I wait until she’s tipping back the bottle of sparkling water to ask, “So you’re in love with me, huh?”

She sputters, spraying it into the breeze. It’s all I can do not to howl with laughter. “What?!” she coughs, eyes wide and glistening. “I didn’t—I don’t—Inever said—”

The laughter finally breaks free, tasting just as sweet as the chocolate on my tongue. “Christ, you’re such an easy mark.” Then, quietly, “It’s why I believe what you said down there.”

She blinks, wiping her chin. “You do?”

I’m starting to think I’ve been reading her all wrong, which is embarrassing. I’ve been seeing her as a woman first and a West Ender second, but the truth is, she’s both things at the same time. She’s vulnerable, and she’s defensive about it. She’s pliable, and she’s fighting it. She’s desperate for companionship, and she resents it.

She’s not Michael Ashby with tits.

She’smewith tits.

“You’re thinking it could have been an act that night,” I say, taking a swig of the champagne. Meeting her gaze, I lift an eyebrow. “I’m good, but not ‘divulge a decades-old family secret to sell the moment’ good.”

She looks down at the finger sandwich in her hand. “Oh.”

It really hangs there.

I thought of trying to be a boyfriend once, back in high school. I didn’t even have anyone in mind, but I felt the pull of the idea; one person to fall into, soft and familiar. The concept of a non-brotherly love. Something warm and comfortable and safe. Just one problem with that.

“I wasn’t built for attachments.”

She looks up slowly, like she’s afraid to meet my stare. “I wasn’t asking for one. I just needed you to know why I did it. That I’m not just a traitor. Things had gotten confusing.”

“I get that,” I say, looking down at the ganache on my fingers. “The way I was with you… during my deposits…” I don’t know why it bothers me how she brought it up down there. She knows what she was brought into the palace for. She signed the covenants. I did my job the only way I knew how.

Resentfully.

“You were mean.” There’s a shadow in her eyes when I glance over.

“I was pissed,” I admit, kissing any hopes of being touched goodbye. “But it wasn’t actually about you. Being told when and who to fuck is nothing new.”

Her face does something complicated. “So I was just another client?”

“Client?”

She nods toward the door. “Like Trudie, and the rest of them.”