Page 4

EMORY

“ H ere?” It’s the first sound Aiden has uttered to me since we snuck out of the Prince ball, other than the occasional grunt of acknowledgment as I gave him directions.

His bow tie hangs loose around his neck and his hair spills over his brow, making him look carefree and boyish when I know he’s nothing of the sort.

A tattletale, not a troublemaker.

“Yep.”

Aiden turns the SUV off, and we stare at the neat blue-and-white house. The lights are off. Mayor Halpern is an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guy. This is going to cost me.

“So what’s the plan?” In the silence of the car, Aiden’s voice has the texture of a surround-sound recording of fur being rubbed over skin.

“The mayor is ordained. He knows the judge. One of them will marry us, and the other will serve as witness. The judge will help with the property transfer.” It’s a good plan.

Efficient. Effective. I’ll be married in an hour and on my way to getting that land.

I have to stay focused on that. Otherwise I’ll start to panic.

Aiden doesn’t respond, his jaw flexing in what I assume is annoyance, before he hops out of the car.

I follow him to the door, trying not to catalog all the ways he’s changed since the last time I saw him, wishing my brain would stop noticing the way his legs flex in his slacks, the way his hair gleams in the moonlight.

Last time I saw him, we were in court. My dad was suing the Princes again, claiming the property line was too far over.

Aiden and I didn’t speak, just exchanged glances.

Our gazes clashed like they did in school.

No smirks from him, just hatred lighting his cold hazel gaze.

He might be older now, but he’s still a force of nature.

Still reserved and cold in that way that perversely makes people crave his approval.

Girls in school would do anything for a smile from him. I never got smiles. Just smirks and insults that made my face feel hot.

When we’re on the stoop, I slide an arm around Aiden’s waist and feel him tense under me. And when I say tense, I mean tense . Every damn muscle in his torso ripples. The fact that he feels like this adds insult to injury.

He should make you weep blood when you look at him too long, not make you want to weep.

I knock. A dog barks. That would be Sam, the mayor’s faithful golden retriever. I knock again. Before I can finish a third knock, the door flies open, and the mayor glares at me through the screen door.

“What?”

“We need a favor,” I say quickly.

His eyes widen, before they flick to Aiden. “No.”

“Christian, please.”

“Christian?” Aiden mutters. His voice rumbles through me. “Since when?”

I ignore him and stay focused on the mayor’s ruggedly handsome face.

In addition to being hot enough to turn an evil woman toward righteousness, the mayor is certifiably Good.

He takes in stray animals. He always buys extra baked goods at the high school bake sale.

He helps people fix their cars. He works weekends. He loves Hart’s Hill.

He hates the heirs. Hates the Houses. He and I have reached a careful state of détente. It consists primarily of significant donations to the causes of his choosing in exchange for him looking the other way when my family causes trouble. It does not include late-night favors.

“A hundred thousand,” I say before he’s able to slam the door in my face.

His eyes light with interest. I can practically hear Aiden’s jaw clenching.

“Come in,” he finally says. “And no bloodshed. I just had the floors cleaned.”

He saunters off into the back of the house, and we follow him inside. I stare at his boxer-clad ass and shake my head. When I turn, Aiden is giving me a stony glare, arms crossed, face tight.

“Contemplating breaking your leash, evil queen?”

“For the good mayor?” I tilt my head to the back of the house. “I don’t think he’d go for me.”

Aiden’s eyes narrow with something that looks like derision. A frisson of awareness goes through me at the disparaging glance he tosses toward the mayor’s back.

“We’ll have a marriage license tonight,” I say quickly. “Rhode Island is a no-wait state, which means we can be married immediately.”

Christian returns minutes later, riffling through papers, wearing clothes this time. “What do you need?”

“We need you to marry us.”

His head lifts slowly, shock written on his face. I silently will him not to ask questions, and behind his eyes, I can see wheels turning. “You have a check?” he finally asks.

I nearly shudder with relief. “I’m eloping under cover of darkness, Christian. Your office will have the check on Monday.”

He eyes me like he doesn’t trust me, but I know it’s just general distrust of the heirs. Not his world and not really mine either.

“Fine. Witnesses?”

“Can you provide them?” Aiden asks.

Christian gives him a look. “So you do speak.”

Aiden’s jaw clenches. “Do you have witnesses we can borrow?”

“Sure,” the good mayor drawls. “I have a dog and a houseplant.”

“Christian,” I hiss. His eyes cut to mine. “Can the judge help? Or the clerk? We really need to get this done.” I let him see the panic in my eyes for one second.

He straightens. “Fine. Sure.” He pulls out his phone and taps at the screen. A minute passes before he says, “Judge is coming. She’s bringing her daughter.”

He points at the fireplace. “Wait over there. That’s where I do shotgun weddings.”

Aiden looks like he’s going to argue, but I grab him by the hand and drag him across the room.

“What’s his deal?” Aiden asks. His face is stony. “Are you friends?”

The emphasis he puts on friends makes it sound like he means more than friends.

My face heats. “We’re not even that,” I say, jerking my hand out of his hold. I don’t want to look him in the eyes and see the judgment there.

Christian doesn’t miss the gesture, and his eyes sharpen on it. Shit. “So, tell me why you two are getting married here instead of some swanky hotel on the water.”

“I was wondering the same thing.” Ava’s cool voice comes from outside the screen door.

An instant later, she strides into the room, her daughter trailing behind her.

“The last time you two were in my courtroom, I told you to play nice, and your words, Ms. Hunter, were over my dead body. So what gives?” She raises one perfectly waxed brow at me.

She’s wearing a suit, even at this hour, and her braids are twisted over her head.

Ava takes no shit, and she could very well say no to this.

She’s presided over every single dispute we’ve had, and she is very much over our antics.

If she thinks this is another ploy …I swallow. Time to play the game.

“Our parents don’t approve,” Aiden says coolly. “You know how our families are. We need this done quickly.”

That’s not a lie. Ava’s eyes narrow. She looks unimpressed. I dart a glance at Aiden, who seems to be all in on our ruse but who also seems to be a very bad liar—or perhaps unpracticed at it. Right. Golden boy doesn’t lie. Good thing I excel at it.

I let my hand drift to Aiden’s shoulder, a small, secret smile on my lips. I gaze up at him, telling him with my eyes not to fuck this up before I turn to the judge and square my shoulders. “We’re in love,” I say.

Aiden stiffens under me and I will him not to react. Christian chokes a breath. If he doesn’t believe me, he doesn’t interfere. Hopefully the money I’m sending him is enough to buy his silence.

I slide my hand down Aiden’s arm, like a willing, happy fiancée instead of a woman who wants to see him dead. Damn, he’s muscled.

“In love.” Ava’s voice is flat. “The two of you. You hate each other.”

“Hate and love feel the same to our bodies.” I read that somewhere, and now seems like the right time to trot it out.

“And Aiden and I were always attracted to each other.” I laugh lightly and turn into Aiden’s body like I can’t stay away from him.

I hold my breath to keep from breathing in his scent.

He flinches as my cheek connects with his chest. “I’ve never been able to look away from her.” Aiden’s voice rumbles under my cheek.

“We’ve kept it a secret from our families, for obvious reasons,” I add.

“You nearly came to blows in my courtroom last month,” Ava points out.

Well, shit. We did.

“It’s her kink,” Aiden drawls.

What the fuck? The first time he lies, and this is what he picks? I dig my nails into his arm. He slides an arm around my waist and squeezes. It’s a warning.

“ Our kink,” I amend. “It’s all the fighting. We spent years arguing, and now he can’t get turned on any other way. He needs that animosity to get his engine going.”

Aiden stiffens under my hand, and I feel the horrible urge to laugh.

Ava’s eyes turn calculating. “No more lawsuits, then? Since you’re so in love?”

The good mayor perks up. “And no more weekend trash pickups for the latest prank. No more city hall meetings about permit disputes.”

They share a look, and Ava nods.

“Fine.” She points at us. “But if I find out this is a prank or a joke? There will be hell to pay. I seem to remember several criminal cases against your brothers, Emory, that I so kindly dismissed.” Her voice is low and deadly.

“And you, Aiden. If I find out you’re wasting my time, I will shut down your ability to make whiskey in this town.

It will be prohibition all over again.” She looks at both of us in turn. “Do you hear me?”

A full-body shiver rolls through me.

“Of course,” Aiden says smoothly, while I’m frozen. “You don’t need to worry about that. We’re very in love.” He gives me a soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Great. Now hold each other’s hands, lovebirds.”

We turn, and Aiden grips my palms in a way that feels vaguely threatening. His hands dwarf mine. He has long fingers, prominent veins, and a nice watch. Interesting calluses too, like his hands see work instead of idle rich-boy hobbies.

Ava reads the vows. My stomach free-falls at the I do . Aiden is steady, like he’s unaffected by this, but his hands tighten as he speaks.

I know what’s coming.

A kiss.

And I hate that I want it, but I do. It’s teenage curiosity that bled over into adulthood. While my cousins all imagined kissing Prince Charming, my version was very specific—one kiss from Aiden Prince, and all my dreams would come true.

Ava tells us we can kiss, and Aiden’s head begins to lower. I hate that my lids flutter. I hate that my body wants this.

Get it over with.

It’s a good thing. I’ll kiss him, and then I’ll never think about him again.

His eyes glitter with unnamed emotion. His hand comes up to cradle my jaw. His breath feathers over my lips. This is really happening. My body clenches in anticipation.

He tilts my head and his lips meet his thumb. I taste the saltiness of his skin and the mint on his breath.

And then he stage-kisses the hell out of me.

It’s the best fake kiss that’s ever been bestowed. My stomach hollows out. With anger. Not disappointment. Never disappointment.

Asshole.