Page 5

EMORY

T he silence in the car on the way back is suffocating. The ring on my finger feels like I’m dragging a weight on my arm. I can’t stop fiddling with the ancient piece of metal. The tarnished gold band on Aiden’s hand gleams dully in the light every time he turns the wheel.

Married. To Aiden.

What the hell have I done?

He doesn’t seem like he’s panicking. I flick him a glance under my lashes as he turns his head, so he can’t tell I’m looking.

Unbothered. Prince Charming has reserves of calm I wish I could access.

He’s always been like this, and in my darker moments, I can admit I’m jealous of it.

I watched his sailing races and lacrosse matches in college—only when I was forced to by my friends, mind you—and when his team was down, he’d go colder and calmer, like I imagine a soldier does in a life-and-death situation.

It takes two more turns before I realize Aiden is not going toward my apartment.

“It’s back there.”

“I know.” He turns left.

“Aiden. Stop the car.”

He stops at a red light. “Yes?” He taps a finger on the wheel. It’s the only sign that he might be unsettled.

“Where are you going?”

His pouty lips press together. Somewhere, a fashion photographer gets their wings. Pensive , the photo is called. It sells for four million dollars.

“I’m going home,” he says crisply. Those luxurious brows tug together as he glances at me. “How much champagne did you have at my party?”

“Four sips. And my apartment is the other direction.”

“I’m aware.”

I barely control the growl that threatens to come out of me and ignore the fact that he knows my address. “Please take me home.”

“So polite.” A breath gusts out of him. “Good practice. Now give me a compliment. I promise not to laugh.”

I finally let out a strangled sound of frustration. “What are you playing at?”

He smoothly pulls off the road and turns to look at me. His eyes glitter in the dim light. “Playing? I’m not the one playing. I’m not the one who told a judge that we were in love.”

My mouth parts in shock. “What was I supposed to say? She was going to refuse to marry us.”

“Yes, well, now we have to pretend to be in love .”

My head jerks back. Aiden smirks at my obvious horror.

“I’m not pretending to be in love with you. That would literally be impossible. As in, beyond the bounds of what is conceivable by the human brain. I. Hate. You.”

He leans back against the door, toying idly with the band on his hand. “Yeah, I hear it gets your engine going.”

The words make something swoop inside me. I ignore it. “I can’t do this.”

He stops toying with the band and levels me with a stare. “Then you shouldn’t have lied to the one person who has the power to deny us the land. You heard her in there. She’ll kill us if she finds out this is fake.”

“No one will believe this.” In love. With Aiden. “I might be a good liar, but you definitely aren’t. God, Aiden, you told her arguing was our kink . What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking, darling dearest, that we needed to play the game.” His words are low and cool.

“Well, you shouldn’t have. This marriage is barely credible as it is.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls. “I think it’s entirely believable.

A century-old feud ends with us hate-fucking every night on the dining room table.

Every time we argue, it ends with my face between your legs.

” His gaze sharpens. “You like when I get a little rough with you. Sometimes we don’t even make it all the way home. ”

My pulse throbs between my legs as I picture everything Aiden describes.

Aiden and I barreling into the house and tearing at each other’s clothes.

Aiden slamming me against the wall.

I face away from him before he can see how hungry I am for that, for anything other than the boring sex I get from guys I meet on apps and the one-night stands I bring home when I’m feeling lonely.

“You repulse me,” I say, wishing my voice would come out stronger than it does.

His jaw flexes. “I don’t care.”

“So what? You think I’m going to live with you? That we’re going to pretend to like each other? I can barely stand to be in this car with you.”

“What I think,” he says evenly, “is that it doesn’t matter what you want.” His finger taps on the wheel again. “We need that land. We need to be married to get it. The land transfer could take a year or more.”

My pulse flutters uncertainly under the heated skin of my chest. I press my hand to it like that will change the facts.

“Maybe we’ll think of a way out of it. Maybe the land transfer will take a week.”

There’s almost no way it will take a week.

The deed will need to be verified. Town court moves ridiculously slowly.

Ava is chronically understaffed and the summer season is starting, which means Aiden’s friends will be crashing their Maseratis into the town pond and locals will be suing the fancy bars for noise complaints.

We’re looking at a year or more of marriage, and we both know it.

He’s right. I know he’s right, and yet, the thought of living with him makes me feel panicky. I like my space. I like my life. I don’t want to be any closer to him than I have to be.

I take a slow, steady inhale. “What does faking a love match look like to you?”

He rubs a hand over his jaw. “You need to move into Crownhaven.”

“You can live at my apartment,” I counter.

He slices me a skeptical glance. “My wife lives at Crownhaven. No one would believe I’d live in an apartment.” His voice drips with derision.

“Fine,” I grit out. “Anything else?”

“The social season is starting soon for the Houses. You’ll have to come.”

I press my head back against the seat. “Donations to the tepid charities you support and dancing with you at events? Fine.” I curl my fingers to keep my hands from shaking. Attending those events is literally my worst nightmare.

“Great,” he says, his tone implying whatever the opposite of great is.

“ If we do this, we need ground rules.”

“Go ahead.”

I’m reminded of how he speaks with careful precision, like he’s deciding how many words the speaker deserves and finding them lacking every time.

Some people might say he has presence.

I say he’s a self-important jerk.

I have zero desire to live with him, but I do want that land.

“We might be faking it in public, but at home, no kissing or touching. I don’t want to do more than we have to.”

“That goes without saying,” he says, a faint wrinkle in his brow. “Anything else?”

I haven’t thought this far. I scramble for something…anything… “No flirting.” I barely control my wince. Aiden has never flirted with me, not even when I wanted him to.

He shrugs. “I don’t flirt.”

I eye him skeptically. “I suppose you don’t, but presumably, you could , if your programming allowed it.”

His jaw hardens and he leans forward. “I would rather chew off my own thumb.”

I reach forward to run a finger under his jaw. Smooth, hot skin, stubble, bone. His only reaction is a faint twitch of his eye, while my pulse speeds at being this close to him. “That sounds like flirting to me,” I whisper.

He jerks back, and I grin. If I’m going to be unsettled, so will Aiden.

Maybe living with him will be fun. Especially if I get to torment him. I eye his stern mouth and his heavy lashes. He’s colder than ice. Yeah, tormenting him will be fun.

His throat works. “If I were flirting with you, you’d know it.” There’s a note of challenge in his voice. It makes my stomach jump.

“Yeah?” I cock my head. Aiden would never flirt with me. He thinks I’m beneath him. “Show me, golden boy.”

He leans forward, and I lean back. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, and I shudder. His hands are warm and larger than I expected.

I want to erase that knowledge from my brain.

My distaste for him makes every point of contact heat, like my body knows he’s the enemy even if my brain hasn’t caught up yet.

His mouth slides into a smile. It turns him from austere and unapproachable to boyish. “Care to come home with me, darling?” His voice drops on the darling . It’s low and smooth, like the whiskey his family makes.

“Is that flirting?” I ask.

His smile doesn’t dim, but neither does it reach his eyes.

“Just showing you what I’d do if you were the type of woman I’d flirt with.”

Asshole. Asshole. Asshole. Each beat of my heart pumps hatred for him and his callous ways through my body.

Never trust a Prince. Never show weakness.

The rules have been drilled into me since birth.

I was born to be Aiden’s opponent, even if I forgot that for a few brief months in high school. Never again.

I’ll never let him have one up on me.

I’ll never want him.

I won’t let him see even one sliver of doubt. I play to win.

“So you’d get me drunk and manhandle me?”

“Is that what you think this is?” His thumb feathers over my jaw, traces my cheekbone. “Clearly you’ve never been flirted with. Been a while, little Hunter?” Even in the dim car, his eyes have a knowing glint.

I swallow hard. He can’t know the truth, right?

There’s no way he knows. Admitting this to him would kill me.

I’d rather be run over by his stupid fancy car than tell him I haven’t had a boyfriend since Harrison and I broke up.

It’s been one hundred and twelve days since I last had sex, with a guy whose name I don’t remember.

I met him at a bar and kicked him out around two a.m. For the last four months, my vibrator has been my best friend and I’ve been married to my work.

“Okay, I get the point.” My voice comes out weaker than I’d like. “What if we—” I swallow. I don’t really want to say this, but it has to be said. “What if you start to like me?”

He looks like he’s about to say something cutting, so I soldier on.

“Faking it could lead to real feelings, Aiden.”

His jaw flexes, like he’s about to divulge something uncomfortable before he says, “That’s what the ground rules are for. No messing around at home. We keep up the ruse in public, but in private, we’re effectively strangers.”

“I don’t know—”

“It won’t be an issue.” His mouth is set in a flat line.

Asshole. “Because I’m so terrible.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll give you the divorce, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Suddenly, I’m eighteen again, and I’m thinking about asking him to prom and he’s crushing my dreams in that cool, cultured voice. I press a fist to my stomach to stop the ache.

She’s not one of us. Never forget that.

Whatever. I don’t want to be one of them.

“When can you move in?” he asks.

“I need time.”

He cuts me a look, and I glare back.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, golden boy. I’m not going to leave you. I just need to tell my family first.”

Aiden’s eye twitches before he shrugs and starts the car.

When he drops me off at my apartment in town, I slam the door behind me without saying goodbye, but not before I hear his threatening “tomorrow” over the sound of my pounding heart.