Page 23

AIDEN

“ I still can’t believe she had a crush on you.”

I slide Tristan a look where he’s walking Talon on the bridle path.

The gelding is slightly shorter than Andromeda, the pony I’m on today, putting me a few inches above Tristan.

He’s smartly attired in buff breeches and a green polo that makes his eyes look like grass.

We’re both wearing the best helmets money can buy, and I’m already sweating, even though it’s only eleven a.m.

“You know, Tris, you could try to sound less surprised. For my ego.”

Sienna laughs, and Tristan snorts. His pony mimics the sound, tossing his head as Tristan murmurs to him.

The midmorning air is humid, and the branches make stripes of sunlight across Andromeda’s neck.

She’s a nice pony, but really, I’m here to try Luxor, the black gelding that Mateo trained himself.

I’ll try him once I’m warmed up. Mateo is the captain of Argentina’s national polo team and a good friend.

He’s a low-stakes way to introduce Emory to our world.

Emory.

The bane of my existence. It feels like she’s everywhere.

Her body products in my shower, her mugs of tea in the sink, her loud laughter on the phone when she calls her cousin.

On Tuesday, I opened the front door to see her playing with Dusty on the floor of the living room.

I promptly went to Tristan’s for dinner.

On Thursday, I was watching a documentary about a cult, and she stood behind the couch for fifteen minutes, also watching, before she went upstairs.

I don’t know how to act with her. We’re married, but we’re not. We promised we’d ignore each other at home, and I’m doing exactly that—so why doesn’t it feel right? I feel like a stranger in my house, and it’s usually the one place I can relax.

It’s been a week since she admitted she had a crush on me when we were younger. I spent the entire week with what-ifs swirling in my head.

I woke up on Monday morning thinking I’d lost something on Sunday night. Something I didn’t even know I had. Emory could have been mine .

The polo field comes into view as we exit the trees.

The June heat is heavy, thick with bugs and birdcalls and buttery sunshine that promises to scorch off the haze from the water.

The grass is too long around the edges of the field, where we used to have stands and tables laden with champagne and caviar-topped snacks.

There’s a lone table there today, with waters and a cooler from Alexis and her team.

And my wife.

Who is wearing a pristine white shirt and tight white breeches and red underwear that is very visible through the white fabric. She’s a siren, and as she tips her head back and laughs, Mateo seems utterly entranced.

We’re twenty feet away when he bends down, puts his hands out for her to step on, and helps her into the saddle. Like she’s a queen who can’t use a mounting block.

Jackass.

Andromeda dances underneath me and I force my legs to relax.

What the hell is Mateo doing touching my wife?

And why do I care so much?

She smiles at something he says and runs her hand over Luxor’s neck. He tosses his head happily before bending to nose at the grass.

“Don’t let him eat that.” My words come out harsher than I intend, and Emory’s head jerks toward me before her eyes narrow.

“Darling,” she says with false sweetness. Her eyes tell me where I can shove my commands, and that warm feeling is back in my chest.

My lips twitch at her glare, but before I can respond, I hear “Aiden” in a woman’s voice, and I wheel my pony around.

Two figures are riding toward us on what looks like Whit’s pony and my usual mount.

“Sienna, did you invite someone?”

My sister shakes her head. Tristan too. The figures draw closer.

“Amy,” I say, squinting across the field. “Amy Harmon and her brother Chris.”

Amy was on the short list of people our grandfather wanted me to marry. Her presence here means one thing.

“He’s interfering,” Sienna says, jerking her chin toward the silver-haired figure on the sidelines who is greeting guests.

“It’s fine,” I say, but there’s an uncomfortable spike of anxiety as four more figures stroll toward the field, followed by another small group.

Amy and Chris have a ton of friends. I don’t know many of them well, though they’ve all been to parties at the estate.

“He knows I hate this,” I say as Tristan rides forward to say hello.

“I don’t understand why he can’t just let you be happy.” There’s an angry bite to Sienna’s voice.

“Happy how?” I give her a puzzled look.

“God, you’re dense.” Her face is murderous.

Sienna burns hot, not cold like me. “When was the last time you laughed?” she bursts out.

“This is the happiest I’ve seen you in twelve months.

Say what you want. Hate your wife as much as you claim to.

But sparring with her makes you seem alive.

I’ll do anything to bring that version of my brother back.

” She tosses her head in annoyance. I know she’s not mad at me, just mad for me.

Shame fills me. It’s not just Katie and Tristan who’ve been affected by my moods. Sienna has been too, even if she’s in school most of the time.

“I can run interference,” she adds, glancing back toward Emory and Mateo, who are laughing and chatting like old friends.

My jaw flexes. Those breeches are damn tight on her. I can see every curve of her ass. An ass I’ve never gotten to touch, even though I could have. And now Mateo looks like he wants to lick her like an ice cream cone.

I glance back at Amy, who’s giving me an expectant smile.

“No.” I sigh, and go to shove a hand through my hair, then remember there’s a helmet.

Amy’s family owns a chain of grocery and liquor stores that stock our whiskey.

They’re one of our biggest buyers. A snub to her would be particularly ill-timed.

Right when I’m battling with Grandfather over the company’s direction.

I sigh again, and we ride forward to greet them.

Amy rides like she was born on a horse, and she gives me a true smile after we’ve exchanged greetings and are heading back toward Mateo and Emory. “It’s been a long time, Aiden.”

I nod stiffly, feeling like I’m being watched. Weighed and measured, like I am every time I’m in public.

It never gets easier.

Will the stutter reappear when I least want it to?

Will I embarrass my family?

Will I meet the impossibly high expectations set for me?

“Sorry,” I tell her. “I’m just tired.”

“Of course.” She nods, and I’m reminded of how damn nice Amy is.

She’s a lawyer who does a ton of pro bono work, and she loves to travel.

I can’t imagine being married to her. She used to talk about how she wanted a huge, loving, family, like she had growing up.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she says quietly.

“It, well—it sucks.” She smiles at me again, sadly this time, and reaches over to squeeze my arm.

I barely control my flinch and the swirl of darkness that rises when I think about Dad. Luckily, she doesn’t notice.

Instead, she’s focused on my wife, whose eyes skate over my arm like she can see where Amy touched me before her mouth tightens, and she looks away.

“This is my wife, Emory Hunter. Emory, Amy went to school with us.”

Emory nods politely. “I remember. Nice to see you.” Her voice is pleasant, but her eyes are cool, and a swirl of unease rises.

Amy gives me an uncertain glance. She’s not someone to put herself out there.

I don’t know what Grandfather told her— that this marriage isn’t real?

That I’m fair game like I was last month?

My eyes flick to where he’s watching us, and I barely control my scowl.

He’s turning a perfectly nice woman into a pawn.

“I’m looking forward to playing today,” Amy finally says with a smile. “I remember how good we used to be together.”

I nod, not sure how I’m supposed to respond. I can’t piss Amy off, but I’m also supposed to be faking a love match with a woman who looks like she’d rather swallow nails than be in my presence right now.

“Emory, I didn’t know you played.” Amy laughs lightly.

“I don’t, but I’m sure I’ll pick it up quickly,” my wife responds.

Amy frowns. “Oh, but it’s not easy. Aiden can tell you that. We’ve been playing since we were kids, and I still fall off.” She grins at me. “Remember when you had to carry me back to the house that summer?”

Emory’s face is unreadable, and luckily, Mateo rides up before I’m forced to respond.

Mateo grins at me. He’s tall and ridiculously fit, and right now, I’m reminded that he was on the cover of Vogue last month.

Amy and my sister are ogling him, and even Emory might be—I follow my wife’s gaze. Is she checking him out?

“Aiden. Good to see you.” He clasps my hand, and I grip it a little too firmly.

Anger rides me hard today, as it has often since Dad’s death.

That’s all it is. Just remnants of the blackness I’ve been saddled with for the past twelve months, along with irritation at the growing group of spectators.

I’m not mad at my friend for flirting with my temporary wife.

“Your wife is a natural at polo.” He gives me another quick smile.

Emory laughs. “You’re a liar, Teo.”

Teo . She should be calling him by his full name. Better yet, Mr. Parisi. I force my jaw to relax.

“She trained with me all morning. I’ve never seen someone take to it so quickly.” He shakes his head as if in awe of her.

“All morning, eh? Is that where you were? I was hoping for a leisurely morning in bed.” I sink innuendo into the words, and her face reddens. I wink at Mateo. “Newlyweds and all.”

He laughs. “Sorry to steal her from you.”

I grind my teeth together. “Let’s play.”

“Aiden, I’d love to play with you. Just like old times.” Amy’s voice is sweet, but there’s a steel edge to it.