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The remainder of the night is a whirlwind. A hundred different hugs and congratulations. A hundred different faces. Champagne glass after champagne glass. One brief encounter with a security official inquiring after the necklace, which Matthew quickly puts to rest.

“I have the necklace— my family’s necklace—in my pocket. But thank you for your overactive concern,” he tells them.

Hours pass before it’s socially acceptable for us to slink away. So many hugs offered, so many best wishes given and inquiries about the wedding made.

The wedding.

Suddenly, somehow, I’m planning a wedding. To Matthew DaMolin. A luminescent Mellie, cheeks flushed with excitement, has already reminded me of the fact no less than eight times.

When Matthew finally drags me out the front door of the club, I’m nearly dead on my feet. Silence hangs between us, heavy as the Spanish moss overhead. Revelations too dangerous to share dance in the moonlit shadows, secrets crunching unassumingly like the gravel beneath our feet.

Matthew’s hand is wound tightly in mine as he leads me into his family’s house.

He pulls me up the ivory staircase and down the hallway.

I pause, a little uncertain, but propriety be damned, Matt swings open the door to his room and tugs me inside.

He closes and locks it behind us, then presses me back into the wood .

“All right, out with it you little minx. What the hell happened tonight?”

“What do you think happened?” A smirk plays on my lips.

“I have no clue, but you better have that necklace hidden on you somewhere. Shall I strip search you to find it?”

“I do have it.”

He drags his gaze up and down my body. He reaches and dives his hands into both my pockets.

Empty.

I laugh at him. “I swapped the necklaces in the ladies’ room,” I explain. “I put the real one in my pocket and the fake around my neck.”

“But it’s not in your pocket anymore,” he points out.

“No. Because when I met up with Paul, he deviated from the plan. Thankfully, it was nothing I wasn’t prepared for.”

“How so?”

“I gave him the fake necklace and put the real one back on. But being Paul, he couldn’t resist trying to royally ruin me. He told me to give him both necklaces, just in case I was trying to trick him…I suppose I can’t exactly blame him, since I was.”

“And?”

“And I gave him a second necklace, like he wanted. But still not the one he was after. I made two counterfeits. It was nearly impossible in the short timeframe, but I did it. As my own insurance policy.”

“He took two fakes?”

“Sure did,” I report, grinning. “He walked out of here with two fakes in his pocket and a smile on his face, thinking he got me. Meanwhile…” I trail off and reach two fingers beneath my gown’s bustline, plunging them into the ironclad depths of my corset.

Slowly, I pull them out, a glittering chain of diamonds and rubies trailing behind.

The jewels swing innocently in front of Matthew’s shocked face.

He doesn’t say anything, but I provide the answer .

“I used the oldest trick in the book—sleight of hand. I spun around and unclipped the real necklace, letting it drop. Then, as I turned to the right, I slipped the second fake from my left pocket and handed it to him. It’s almost poetic in a way—Paul is the one who taught me those tricks when I was six years old. ”

“Well, I do declare, Miss Katarina.” Matthew’s eyes sparkle. “Color me impressed.”

“You should be,” I whisper. I raise my left hand and show him his watch, the watch I slipped off his wrist while I was talking.

He bursts out laughing and snatches it back from me. “You’re a menace.”

“I am.” I grin.

“And a handful.”

“Your handful.”

“Yes. Mine.” He takes the necklace from me, flattening it across my chest. He secures the clasp around my neck again. “There, back where it belongs.”

“You’re very sweet. And very trusting.”

“I’m only a little sweet, Kat. Turn around.”

I obey. He presses his lips to the side of my neck, grazing his nose and breath along the shell of my ear.

His fingers move to the buttons at my back, working until the beaded gown drops to the floor.

The laces of my corset loosen next, then release and tumble away. I turn to face him, but he stops me.

“Don’t turn around.”

He presses my palms flat on the door and kisses my neck again. His hands glide down my bare sides, unhooking my garters, sending my underwear to the floor with a quick flick of his wrist. He slides his fingers back up, skimming the sides of my breasts.

“Get on the bed,” he rumbles .

I move, his eyes drinking in my every step.

“I’m only a little sweet, Katarina,” Matthew tells me again, reaching for me. His lips brush softly over mine. “Because I’m going to fuck you now, right here in my parents’ house, while you wear only this necklace. And I don’t care who hears us or tries to interrupt. You are mine .”

“Yours,” I agree, my pulse quickening with excitement.

He’s as good as his word. Better in fact, because for the next hour, he shows me how incredible it is to belong to him. To think only of him. To be only with him. To feel only him, call out for only him.

To be consumed by him.

To be loved by him.

Him and only him.