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She frowns. “I never said that.”

I smile. Very black and white, this girl. When I pick up a glass from the table, Ava steps forward, shaking her head. “I don’t drink.”

“She’s never had more than a sip,” Rhett says.

Ava lifts her head, looking straight in my eyes. “I’ve never understood people who need alcohol to have fun. If you’re nothaving fun without it, maybe you should find something more interesting to do with your time.”

I nod, trying to keep a serious expression on my face. “I agree with you. I like to keep a clear head. I rarely drink. The alcohol is for my guests.” I gesture around the room. “It’s not my business how they choose to have fun. Only that they have it.”

Her defiant expression falters. “That’s—” she purses her lips “—considerate. Actually, what I just said about alcohol was very judgmental.”

Ah, there it is.

Submission.

When she knows she’s wrong, she capitulates quickly. Just like when she made that wild comment about Ben.

“Can I get you something else?” I ask. “I can have a bartender make you a mocktail.”

“No. I’ve heard about people getting things slipped into their drinks at frat parties.”

I strain my throat to keep the laughter from bubbling out. With effort, I shoot her a grave expression. “You can never be too careful.”

She narrows her eyes, staring at my face for a long moment. “Don’t think you can mock me right in front of me. I know exactly how insufferable I sound.” She raises her chin. “I don’t care.”

Oh God, could she be more delightful?

“But I’m here, honey,” Rhett says. “And I’m watching out for you. No one would have the balls to slip something into your drink when I’m around.”

The blood in my veins simmers. How dare he call her honey, and he should sayI’mhere. No one would dare drug Ava whenI’mhere. Who is Rhett? No one.

Ava is mine. He knows it, and yet he still refuses to give her up.

Before I get the chance to say something cutting to Rhett, Asher appears by Ava’s side.

“My lady.” He smiles lazily. “Care to join me for a dance?”

Ava glances out at the crowd of people in the center of the ballroom. “It’s so weird…” She mutters. “It looks like a Jane Austen ball, but they’re dancing to club music.”

Asher’s smile doesn’t falter. He’s used to this. “It’s a frat party, my lady. We just happen to have a historic location for it.”

“Faux historic,” Ava says. “Still, I think a lot of the art is real.” She looks at me wide-eyed. “Is it?”

When I nod, she shakes her head. “Unbelievable. Precious art in a frat house.”

“My lady,” Asher says, “this is a special frat house. Run by a bunch of out-of-touch nepo babies.”

Ava smirks and holds out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ava.”

Asher laughs, and Ava beams at him. Now I find myself wanting to reprimand Asher. How does he do that? How does he break through her reserve so quickly?

I don’t need to make her like me yet. That will come later.

“You’re fun, Ava,” Asher says. “I love your librarian vibe.”

“You’ve noticed.” Ava raises both brows. “And my activities include reading Jane Austen books over and over again, getting coffee with friends… Oh, and going to Bible study.”

Rhett sets his hand on Ava’s shoulder. “Don’t get her talking about the Bible, or I’ll get a lecture on the ride home about my drinking.”