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AIDEN

M y hands shake as I stride through the house.

I like this so much.

I need to stop touching her.

I need to stop noticing how hot she is.

I shove my hands into my trousers pockets and dig my nails into my palms. Focus. I need to focus. What would impress her?

No, you fool. It’s not about impressing her, it’s about winning. I have to win. I’ve never done anything like this before, and the thought of stealing something makes me giddy. Maybe I’m more Hunter than I realized, but tonight, I don’t hate it, and I definitely don’t hate her.

Looking at her makes my blood feel warm and fizzy, makes me want to push her against the wall and hear those sounds she made in the garden.

I really need to stop thinking about the garden.

I would give anything to stop thinking about that fucking garden.

But god, how am I supposed to think about anything else when she looks like that ? Not in a ballgown or something demure, but in a black dress that dips to her navel, with red lips that make me want to smear that lipstick with my thumb—

There.

An open door. I stride inside, grinning when I see that it’s the setup station for catering. I glance to the right. No one is here. I study the tray like a general. I get three items, and I want to make all of them count.

What does she like? I asked her on Wednesday at breakfast what her favorite foods were. Italian food, she said, because it reminds her of home. Sinigang that her uncle makes to impress his wife’s family, which I found oddly sweet. Fancy cheese. I snag a plate, my heart pounding.

I’ve forgotten all about the crowd as I skirt around the ballroom and grab a bottle of champagne. One more thing. I need one more— there.

My phone beeps, letting me know that I have five minutes remaining.

When I burst onto the terrace, she’s already there, dangling a wristwatch from her finger and wearing a catlike smile. My heart does a double thud as I take her in.

Her eyes flick to the door, and she tips her head. “Let’s go. Into the gardens.”

“How do you know your way around?” I don’t know why I’m surprised. She seems to have lots of mysterious skills, like suspiciously light fingers and a proficiency for profit. She’s not like the people inside that ballroom. She feels like more. Being around her makes me feel like I’m more too.

More than just the Heir. More than a man with a penchant for saying the wrong fucking thing and stumbling over his words.

“Google Maps,” she says idly. “I checked before we arrived. We just need somewhere—”

We round a corner, and a pool comes into view.

It’s designed to look like part of the landscape, but there are little lights inside the reeds surrounding it and steps that descend into the dimness.

It looks mysterious and magical, heat rising from the surface in swirls.

We circle to the other side, in the darkness, through some unspoken agreement.

Allies, for the first time ever. It feels better than it should.

“Let’s see it,” she demands, hands on her hips.

She’s so fucking pretty like this, demanding and taking.

I would really like to know if she’d be like this in bed, blunt and honest and raw and telling me exactly how she likes it.

I could have made her come against that wall.

She doesn’t want to admit it, but I know damn well it would be so fucking—

“Aiden,” she hisses.

“You first.” I need a minute. More than a minute, really, to get myself under control and to stop thinking about her mouth.

Looking at her makes me feel like I’m starving.

I watch her pull things from her bag. Does she want me? I think she does, but she doesn’t look affected by it like I am.

It doesn’t fucking matter, idiot. We agreed not to touch, and it’s a damn good idea, because messy is the last thing we need. But it seems like a shame that I’ll never make her come.

A fucking shame when it’s all I want and all I’ve thought about for the last three weeks. I guess forbidden fruit is all the sweeter. That’s all. If I had her once, I’d probably get over this madness.

“Fine.” She sighs. “I was limited by bag size, so don’t hold that against me. A wristwatch.” She holds it up.

I give her a bemused look. “Why?”

“Because yours looks old and shitty.”

“It’s an heirloom.” I raise a brow.

She waves a hand in the air. “You old money types are all the same.”

“You got me a gift, evil queen? Didn’t know you could be sweet like that.”

“I’m not sweet.” She narrows her eyes and drops the watch in her purse.

“Would that be so bad?” My voice is low and coaxing in the dark, even though I don’t mean for my words to sound like that.

Her head jerks up. “Yes,” she says with blunt finality.

Suddenly, I want to know why. Why she squirms at my compliment, why she insists on playing this game with me. I want to know who invented it—her or her brothers? I want to crack her open and see if that sweetness I thought I tasted the other day goes deeper than I ever expected.

I think it might.

And I hate that she’s been hiding it from me.

She pulls out her other items—a flask and a cigar.

“Very on brand,” I tease as she sniffs the flask and makes a face.

“I don’t even really like whiskey,” she grumbles.

“I have something for that.” I open my suit jacket, where I’ve shoved a bottle of champagne neck-first into my trousers and secured it with my bow tie.

She lets out a snorting laugh before she covers her mouth.

The sound makes me feel like I’ve done a shot of whiskey.

“What is wrong with you? Didn’t anyone notice you were walking funny?”

I give her a look. “I’m the Heir.”

She rolls her eyes, but she looks delighted at my loot. “What else?”

I reach into my pocket and unfold a cloth napkin. “Cheese. For the lady.”

Her smile grows. “I approve.”

I reach into the back pocket of my suit and pull out the flowers I stole. “And these.”

Her smile falls. Her mouth wavers briefly. “What are these?”

“Peonies,” I say uncertainly. “From the centerpieces. I took one from each one I found. They’re your favorites, right? I think that’s what you said on Tuesday when we were talking about things we like.”

“But why?” Her brows tug together in confusion. “You got me flowers?”

I’m about to answer, but a woman’s laughter rings out, then a man’s rumbling tones.

“Aiden,” she hisses. “Into the water.”

“What?”

“Turn around. We can’t let them see us. I think this watch is expensive.”

I choke out a sound that tries not to be a laugh, but I don’t have time to protest before she’s pulling at her dress. I whirl around so I don’t see more than she wants me to.

I drop my loot onto the ground and start yanking at my shirt.

In for a penny, in for a pound.