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There’s a content smile on his face when he stuffs it in the inside pocket of his jacket and gets out of the car. The pep in his step evident while he rounds the front of the Lexus and opens my door for me, offering me his hand. And I take it like my life depends on it.

The patio is gorgeous, vaulted arches painted with the vibrant colors and decorated with an array of floral arrangements.

All different sizes and in mismatched urns and vases.

The light stone has a glow to it from all the candles scattered that brings the inside outside—dim, romantic.

This is the kind of place where secrets are kept in the shadows. Stolen touches, fleeting kisses.

“We’re the first ones here,” Auguste says, taking my purse and placing it on the table next to his place setting.

His green stare is speckled gold as he tugs me into him. I don’t get time to breathe before he’s on me. His lips crash into mine, and I meet him with everything I’ve got. Tongue, teeth, fingers tugging his jacket open so I can get closer to him. Meanwhile, he’s devouring me all over with his hands.

“Auguste…” I moan into his mouth as his fingers slide under my dress, groping my thighs at first and then raking upwards to the curve of my ass, just barely teasing the tail of my lace underwear.

There’s no way I can control the urge to explore him the way he is exploring my body.

My body presses flush to his while my nails rake up his back.

I’m enthralled by the push and pull of his hard muscles beneath my fingertips.

Addicted to the friction of our bodies seeking more and more of each other out.

“This is a dangerous game, Snow,” he mutters against my lips with a growl, fingers twisting into the sides of my thong like he’s about to tear it off me.

“You started it.”

A hand yanks free of my underwear, cupping the back of my neck while his rough thumb tangles in my curls. “I’m gonna end it too.”

My stare darts up to his. Holding. Waiting. Anticipating where and when and how. Because I need it so much. There isn’t a part of me that isn’t yearning for him to make me feel good—to rough me up with his lust and longing.

And then—like some cosmic joke—the music shifts from quaint background to a darker, heavier beat. Languid and throbbing along to the pulse of my yearning in my core.

Auguste pulls back, breathless. A grin on his full lips when he says, “Dance with me.”

I want to say no. That I can’t move. That if he keeps touching me, I’ll implode. His family will arrive any moment…

Still, I take his hand, and suddenly, he’s swaying us slowly. His arms surround me. My cheek presses to his chest. The music wrapping around us like a secret.

In a purposeful maneuver, his knee pushes between my thighs. With a roll of his body, his thigh slots to my aching center. Every time he moves us, the friction sends a frisson of white-hot need through me.

Nothing else matters when we’re this close. To each other. To unraveling.

All that’s going through my mind are the words he told me earlier: I like you a lot. You’re somebody to me.

Engulfed in his arms, his body rutting and grinding with mine to the music, it’s easy to forget I have no business being anything to him. Easy to forget I’m leaving soon. In this moment, we’re not on borrowed time. We’re forever.

Tilting my head back, I palm his jaw, urging his face to mine. Rough lips to mine.

His stare is holding mine, waiting for me to take or to ask… to beg like he asked me if I am willing to do.

The answer was yes then and it’s yes now.

“Kiss me.” I gasp when his mouth parts, teasing me. “Kiss me like you mean it. Like… like…”

“Like?” The heat of his breath swells in my throat. “Like what, Court?”

“Like I really am somebody to you… and… and you like me… a lo?—”

I don’t get to finish the sentence or the thought preparing me for his assault. It’s instant. Merciless.

Completely reckless on my part. Yet the more he gives, the deeper he kisses me—tongue licking over mine, teeth pulling at my lip when he sucks it into his mouth—I allow myself to take. To give back. To savor and luxuriate in the intensity of his heated emotions pounding into my chest from his.

“Sorry we’re late!” A woman’s voice sings out.

Auguste holds me tighter when I leap out of my skin.

“Stay,” he murmurs into my hair, his hands on my waist spinning me to face his entire family.

I’m faced with his parents… siblings… nephews… and when I stiffen at the sight of all eyes on us, Auguste wraps a protective arm around me.

His lips press a hard kiss to the top of my head at the same time as my ass backs into his unmistakable erection.

Oh.

This is awkward. Right ?

I think it is… or it’s meant to be—they look like a family straight out of a glossy lifestyle shoot—but they’re also easy.

Easy joining Auguste and I by the table. Smiling at me like this isn’t the first time they’ve met me.

“You must be Courtney,” his father says, hands bracketing my shoulders before he kisses each of my cheeks.

“My dad, Edouard,” Auguste whispers in my ear.

“Everyone calls me Eddie.” His dad winks at me, moving sideways to awkwardly hug Auguste.

“Hi, I’m Marley. étienne’s wife.” A tall woman shuffles in front of me. Her hands are holding her small bump as she takes me in, broad smile bracketed by the deepest dimples and brown eyes gleaming excitedly when she leans in to hug me. “Finally, Auggie’s brought a date.”

“Not a date, Marley,” Rina calls from behind her. Each of her grandsons are perched on either side of her waist. “They’re friends.”

“Yeah, the dancing was totally friendly,” the man standing beside her chuffs.

An older carbon copy of Auguste with cropped hair and slightly darker skin. His eyes are just as bright and filled with hidden mischief, though.

However, mischief isn’t what’s playing on his face when he comes forward, and unlike his father or his wife, he shakes my hand.

“Courtney Nilsson,” he enunciates every syllable of my name like he’s decoding me.

“étty,” Auguste warns, arm tightening around me.

“Auggie.”

“I’m sorry about him, he missed his afternoon nap… and now—” Marley elbows étienne in the ribs. “—he’s a total grump. Worse than our toddlers.”

“Hello again, sweetie.” Sabrina nudges past the couple in front of me. “You look beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“This is Elliot,” she hitches a twin on one hip and then the other, “and this is Ethan.”

“Hi.” I wave at the twin boys, hands in their grandma’s hair.

“And I’m Sabine,” the girl from the elevator waves at me behind everyone. “We met already… and I’m glad that Auggie’s stopped pining and made a move.”

“Jesus Christ,” Auguste groans behind me. “Can we just get some room, please? ”

When everyone gawks at us in reply, he takes my hand and guides us to our seats. I’ve never experienced anything like this, and a part of me feels giddy, the other keeps thinking back to étienne’s assessing stare, the way he said my name…

“I’m sorry about them.” Auguste leans in with a whisper.

“Don’t you dare apologize. Your family loves you, that’s… that’s a wonderful thing.”

On impulse I kiss the tip of his nose. Catching us both off-guard.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me, because I slip my hand beneath his on the table and sit back into my seat like PDAs are the norm for me.

étienne sits beside Auguste with the twins situated between him and Marley. They paint such a beautiful picture. Their little boys with their light brown eyes and gorgeous curly hair. So perfect and happy, chewing on the breadsticks, Auguste hands each one of them across étienne.

Auguste’s hand never leaves mine, not even when he falls into conversation with his brother. It’s all so normal.

Dinner passes in a blur of laughter and stories.

The noise and joy is unlike anything I’ve experienced.

Chaos in the best sense. Laughter like wind chimes.

The boys clinking their spoons against the table to add to the melody.

They tease Auguste about everything—from his hockey fights to his broody silences to the time he cried during Finding Nemo.

He’s blushing but trying to pretend he isn’t.

“Get it right,” he growls, “It was that dumb robot movie.”

“Aw, poor Wally,” Sabine chimes in. “He was so alone.”

Eddie laughs, clutching his stomach. “Like someone else I know.”

“Not anymore,” Sabrina points out. “Courtney’s brought him out of his shell.”

I’m not sure what to say, but they’re all grinning like I don’t have to say anything I don’t want to, and so I grin back.

“Say,” étienne says, addressing their parents with a proud smile. “We have a little something for you guys.”

“Oh no,” Sabrina starts, only for Eddie to finish, “There’s never a little something where the three of you are concerned.”

Marley hands étienne a small jeweller's bag at the same time as Sabine calls out, “Speech!”

“No, don’t get your brother started,” Eddie chuckles, waving her down when she clinks her champagne glass with her knife.

étienne clears his throat.

"Thirty years is a long time to put up with someone," étienne says, raising his glass. "Especially someone as stubborn as Dad. "

“Hey!” Eddie protests, but his smile is wide.

“And as particular as Mom,” étienne continues, winking at Sabrina who rolls her eyes fondly.

Auguste's hand tightens around mine, his thumb stroking small circles that send tingles up my arm. I lean slightly into him, drawn by his warmth.

“But you two have shown us what love looks like," étienne's voice softens. "Not perfect, not easy, but worth fighting for every day.”

He reaches into the small bag and pulls out a pair of matching velvet boxes and hands one to each of his parents.

“From the three of us,” he says as they open them and gasp. “A reminder that every anniversary is worth celebrating, and every moment you've chosen each other has made our family what it is.”

Sabrina's eyes glisten as she plucks a gold ring from her box. Eddie isn’t far behind when he slips the ring from his box on her finger and vice versa. There’s an inlay mother of pearl band in the middle to represent their milestone anniversary.

“We wanted something special,” Sabine adds, her smile bright. “To represent everything you have built together.”

“They’re perfect,” Eddie beams at his children while holding up Sabrina’s hand. “Just like your mother.”

My gosh.

The way they look at each other—Sabrina and Eddie—makes my heart ache. There's a history there, decades of inside jokes and shared struggles and triumphs.

Something real.

Auguste's hand leaves mine to drape his arm around my shoulders as he pulls me into him and toasts, “Thirty years. Still in love. Still dancing. And here’s to many more.”

My throat tightens. I smile. I clap. I even tear up a little with everyone else.

But deep down, a quiet ache grows. Because I never had this. Not with my parents. Not with Mom and Martin.

It hits me then, as Auguste wraps himself around me. As he holds me close.

It hits me so hard I can’t even breathe.

He wants this.

Everything his parents have. The closeness. The family. The forever.

He’s the kind of man who believes in it—who looks at his mom and dad and sees a roadmap .

Me? I’m leaving.

I can’t give him all of this. There’s no place for me in this picture. And I’ve never felt so disappointed. So bereft.

The rest of the night is a blur, and before I know it, Eddie and Sabrina are hugging me goodbye and saying they’ll see me soon. Because they don’t know that I’m only here for the summer.

Auguste doesn’t know.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs into my hair as we head out to the car.

Home.

I know we live in the same building but the tone is loaded with a meaning that has my heart in my throat.

The ride home is silent.

Auguste holds my hand, the same way he held it on the drive to the Chateau, but I don’t grip back. I have no right to cling to him. To give him false hope.

“Court.” His voice is soft. “What’s wrong?”

I swallow hard, looking out the window. “I’m leaving L.A. in a few weeks.”

“What?” His hand tightens around mine, fingers curling into my palms. “Why?”

“Because that’s the plan,” I whisper back.

“The plan?”

“I came here for experience… to connect with my dad before starting my position with The Crescents.”

“The Crescents. New Orleans.”

I nod and he doesn’t say anything more. The tension bleeds into the space between us like ink in water.

When we pull up to the complex, Auguste parks in his space. Turns off the engine and looks at me.

“Be mine until you go,” he says, voice low and rough. “All mine.”

I nod again.

“I need your words right now, Court. I need you to tell me that you want to be mine. Every last piece of you. Every dream… fantasy you have… Let me claim them. Let me give them to you.”

My breath stutters. “I want that… you.”

Before I can say any more, he’s rounding the car and opening my door. With one sharp tug, he hoists me up and over his shoulder.

When we’re in the elevator, his hands are all over the back of my thighs, my ass. He’s biting and sucking at my butt cheeks the same way he did to my thighs earlier. Only this time it hurts. So. Fucking. Good. And I moan, loud and broken into the crackling air.

Each time I moan, he spanks my ass. Harder with every swat.

I’ve never been so wet in my life.

The fire he left me burning with erupts into an all out inferno as I squirm and pant and beg for more. Without any pause or hesitation, he takes me directly to his place when we get to our floor.

His door opens. We get inside. And then he’s got me pressed up against the wall. Mouth devouring mine.

His hands are everywhere at once, rough and possessive as they grip my thighs, my waist, my hair. I'm helpless against the storm of him, my body responding like it was made for his touch alone.

Then he’s pulling away. Leaving me cold and bereft as he crouches down and picks Samson up.

“Stay,” he commands as he disappears through the living area towards the bedrooms.

I don’t move. Not one bit. Not even when he returns to my line of sight, standing at the end of the hallway, shirt unbuttoned, hanging open.

“Do you remember what you told me earlier?” he taunts, removing his cufflinks and placing them on the sideboard next to him.

I know what he’s going to say before he orders it. And as he ambles backwards, deeper into the living area, adding more distance between us, my heart is threatening to hammer out of my chest.

“So… go on, Court. Get on your knees and crawl.”