"Holy shit," I exclaimed as we walked past the divider in the middle of the ballroom, leaving the ceremony portion of Elizabeth and Weston’s wedding to go to the reception. Everything about the event was incredible, from the décor to the uniforms of the wait staff. The location itself was very highbrow—the Park Hyatt’s Onyx Ballroom, a luxurious venue, steeped in glamor with floor-to-ceiling watercolor panels.

"That's what I said when I saw you walk out to the car this morning," Donovan said, squeezing my hand.

I heard him, and my chest did a silly little flutter, but I was too wrapped up in the scene in front of me. Though it had been an early evening wedding, hors d'oeuvres were the only food being served. There were probably too many guests to accommodate a full-service dinner logistically. But it was an open bar, and the food on the trays that the waiters passed seemed substantial. A live band played jazz music, and there was a table with a nice sized-gift bag for every guest to take upon their departure.

"All this for a fake wedding?" I wouldn't even do this much for a real wedding. Of course I'd always planned on eloping somewhere, so maybe I wasn't the best judge.

"Hush." Donovan scanned the nearby vicinity to make sure nobody had heard me. "You want to be careful what you say. Elizabeth apparently has a few family members suggesting this marriage is a sham. There's nothing like a fifty-thousand dollar wedding to say true love."

My jaw might have dropped.

Well, if that's what it took to access her trust fund… I assumed her inheritance was exponentially more.

"I guess I'm amazed she could pull it off so quickly." They'd only had a handful of months to plan the whole shebang. If I ever did get married, I was definitely hiring her wedding planner to handle everything.

And why was I thinking so much about my own possible wedding? Spending so many nights with Donovan the past week, maybe. Funny how having a relationship got me thinking long term, even when it was such a newly formed relationship.

"It helps to have friends.” He pulled two glasses of champagne off a tray as a waiter passed and handed one to me. "The hotel belongs to the father of a friend of mine. Elizabeth knew the woman who brought in the flowers. Her wedding dress came from Mirabelle's. Mira is Hudson Pierce's sister. Hudson has done some business with Reach recently, as you know. They agreed to only one attendant each, which made the rehearsal quick and simple for everyone, especially when Weston realized Brett would be a more enthusiastic best man than I would. It all came together."

"You mean, you made it come together." If there was one thing I was learning about Donovan, it was that he knew how to maneuver. Knew how to pull strings. No wonder he'd once had the nickname The Puppet Master.

"I know what's important. And this is important." He took a swallow of the champagne then so I couldn't read his expression. Couldn't tell if the importance was because of the business merger this union created, because he believed in their marriage, or because it had made Weston unavailable to me.

Perhaps it was a little bit of all three.

"For what it's worth, I don't think you have anything to worry about on the believability front." I raised my voice just slightly in case anyone nearby was listening in. "It’s obvious how much love they have for each other. They gazed at each other during the ceremony like no one else existed in the universe.” I lowered my voice. "I actually mean that."

He frowned skeptically. "We'll see. There's already a pool going around with the guys on how long before they file for annulment."

"Isn't filing for annulment part of the plan?" I whispered.

He smiled and nodded at someone across the room. "It is," he said through his grin, "but a date hasn't been set for it yet. It was left to be determined. The guess is how long they'll last. Do you want in?"

It was my turn to frown. "No, I do not." I didn't know what bothered me so much about it. We’d made bets on Weston regarding Elizabeth before. But that was when I truly believed that they were just pretending their way through this whole thing.

Now I wasn't so sure that they were. "It doesn't seem right to bet against somebody's happiness."

My date swung his attention back in my direction. "Jesus. You really believe this could work out, don't you? That's cute."

"Thank you for being so patronizing. I truly appreciate it,” I said sarcastically, folding one arm over my breasts so I could sip my drink with a scowl. So apparently he didn’t believe in their relationship. It stung for some reason, as though he’d said he didn’t believe anyone should get married, and as though I cared what he thought on the matter.

And maybe he didn’t. He’d once been engaged, but he might have changed his perception of the ritual, but why I cared about his opinion was unbeknownst to me. It wasn’t like we were getting married.

"No, I really mean that. You’re adorable." He tugged my hand away from my chest and pulled me toward him. "I’m not saying I don’t believe in marriage,” he said, as though he knew exactly what I was thinking. “I’m saying that this marriage has obstacles. Weston is a playboy. He hasn't stayed with one woman for longer than two weeks in his life, and here you are with faith in him. I think that's cute."

His mouth was near mine but before he could kiss me, I said, "That's not true. He's been faithful for months to Elizabeth.” I tipped my chin up, cueing him to press his lips to mine.

"Then the rumors are true," an unfamiliar voice exclaimed beside us. "Donovan Kincaid has found himself a girlfriend."

Instinctively, I backed away from the man I'd been about to kiss. I’d accepted that people were going to talk about us—I really had—but it was one thing to say I was cool with it and quite another to actually be cool.

"I'm the one who told you that rumor, you asshole," Donovan said clapping the back of the stranger in front of us. He was of average height; his hair cut short, almost military style. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, bulky where Donovan was lean. Hard where Donovan was chiseled. Mean where Donovan was mischievous. "Sabrina, this is Cade Warren. Cade, I told you about Sabrina."

"No. You told me about our new Director of Marketing Strategy. Weston told me about Sabrina." He shook my hand in greeting—a firm shake, just gentle enough to prove he remembered he was shaking the hand of a woman. "Pleasure to meet you. Everything I've heard has been quite… complimentary."

I bit down the anxiety threatening inside. I hated not knowing what he had learned from Weston versus what he had learned from Donovan, but at least it had been Donovan who had told him we were together.

I also hated that I knew almost nothing about Cade except that he worked in the Tokyo office. It made it hard to make small talk.

Fortunately, Donovan knew things about him, and he came to my rescue.

"Cade’s story that he’s here for the wedding is only a cover," he said—a pointed jab at his partner. "He's really in the States to meet up with a woman from the past."

Cade's eyes narrowed. "Hey—"

"Payback’s a bitch." Donovan wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled me in to his side, possessively.

I liked it. A lot.

"But that was supposed to be a secret,” Cade said with a note of menace.

I knew good and well that Donovan wasn’t afraid of Cade. But maybe he should have been. Cade seemed tough. The kind of tough that covered up that he had once been broken. Broken badly.

I knew that kind of broken.

But I'd never seen this kind of tough. It was a myth, as far as I'd been concerned. I'd never believed people could build walls that strong.

Apparently I was wrong.

People with walls that strong were to be feared. They didn't have anything to lose.

"Sabrina and I have no secrets," Donovan said, his thumb drawing circles on my hip.

Goosebumps shot down my skin from his touch and from the words he said. It felt good to hear them. To know that they were true.

"Well, isn't that precious?" Cade rolled his eyes. He seemed like the kind of guy who didn't believe in relationships that required no secrets. He probably didn't believe in weddings either. A hundred bucks said he'd made the first bet in the ‘Weston and Elizabeth get an annulment’ pool.

"Don't worry," I assured Cade, because I was more than a little afraid of the man, even if Donovan wasn’t. "Your secret is safe with me."

He grinned. "It's a good thing too. With you dating this guy, you're gonna need all the friends you can get." He turned his focus to my date. "How long do we have to stay at this thing anyway?"

But I wanted to address what he’d just said about me.

I put my hand on his bicep, which was larger than it had first seemed under his tuxedo. “Oh.” Shockingly larger.

Anyway. "Wait a minute—what do you mean ‘I need friends’? Are people talking? People are upset that I'm dating him, aren’t they?"

He took a swig of the beer he'd been holding and shrugged. "You're dating one of the bosses. And you’re fuckhot. And from what I hear, smart as shit. Of course people are talking. Have I heard anything? No. But look at them." He gestured at the crowd around us. "There's sure a lot of whispering and glances."

"It's because it's our coming-out party," Donovan said. "They’re surprised. That's all. Ignore them, Sabrina. Ignore him.” To Cade he said, “And you need to stay until the bride and groom arrive. They're getting their photos taken and then they'll be in."

"Fine." Cade took another swallow from his bottle, and when he did, I noticed the edge of a tattoo as his sleeve pushed up on his arm. "I'll stay until then. But then I'm out of here."

Yeah, this guy did not do weddings.

This guy did not do romance.

I made a mental note to ask Donovan where he found him later on. He seemed more like ex-military then a guy who ran an international advertising firm in Japan.

But I knew better than to judge by appearances. And I knew better than anyone that smart, creative people came from all walks of life.

"Maybe we should mingle while we're waiting," I suggested. I, at least, needed to say hello to the people from our office. I didn't want to appear stuck-up on top of everything else.

Cade let out a hearty laugh. "You’re still trying to win their hearts aren't you? She's cute, Donovan."

I pressed my lips together tightly so they didn't say anything that I'd regret to the man that I just met, who was technically one of my bosses.

Donovan surveyed me, likely noting the glare I was holding back, and let out a laugh of his own. "I was just saying that." He moved his hand to my neck, just below where my hair sat tightly in a knot. His fingers on my sensitive nape sent shooting stars of want down my spine. "It looks like a bunch of the staff is gathered by the bar. We can go say ‘hello.’" Then he bent in so that Cade couldn't hear him. "He's a dick, but he's a good guy. I'll make it up to you later."

I didn't know what exactly he was making up to me, or why he considered any of it his fault except that he'd been the one who'd wanted me to come with him to this thing. But the feel of his breath on the shell of my ear and the promise of something good to come was enough to make me relax. A bit.

"I'm holding you to that."

We’d just made it over to the bar when a buzz spread through the crowd, not just directly around us, but throughout the ballroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I recognized the voice that came across the speaker system as Brett Larrabee, Weston's best man and a fellow student from Harvard. "It's time to welcome, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Weston and Elizabeth King."

Applause erupted as the couple entered the room holding hands. Both were smiling, but neither looked at the other, each directing their attention at their guests.

Was it all an act? Were the glances passed between them just for show?

It was one thing to be sleeping together. It was quite another to be married and be serious about it.

Maybe Donovan was right. I'd likely spent too much time recently with my sister. Just because Weston was having a good time with his business arrangement didn't mean he'd found a happily ever after.

"They do a lineup or something, don’t they?" Cade asked, finishing his beer with one long swallow.

"I think they plan to mingle," Roxie said, as our group joined hers.

"Fuck this. It will take forever for them to get through all these people. I'm taking off." Cade tossed his bottle into a nearby trashcan. "Can I borrow you for a moment, Donovan? It was nice meeting you, Sabrina. I'll probably see you around the office before I head back to Tokyo."

"Ditto." It seemed safe enough. Polite but noncommittal.

Donovan looked to me as if asking my permission. I scanned the faces of those gathered, noting who I’d be left with if he abandoned me. There weren’t many staff members. Not many had been invited, mainly just the top employees who worked under Weston. My team members, Roxie, and a few other key staff members. Basically all the people who’d be the most pissed at the advantages I’d gain at dating the boss. In other words, I'd be alone with the wolves.

No. Not the wolves. My staff. My people.

"Go ahead. I'll be fine." I didn't know if it made things better or worse that he kissed me on the cheek before walking out to the lobby with his partner.

"You came with Donovan?" Roxie didn't even wait until he was out of earshot. He glanced back at me at the sound of his name, and I tipped my head up in reassurance. I had this.

I didn't have this.

“Uh, yeah. I did. He's my date. He's my…" Say it. Just say it, Sabrina, I willed myself. "I guess we're seeing each other.” Chicken. “No guessing. We are seeing each other."

“Ah," Roxie said, a whole ton of subtext in the single syllable, and hell if I knew what any of it was.

Tom Burns, my lead team member, on the other hand, was pleasantly surprised. "Good for you." I hadn’t really talked to him about me and Donovan, but he had walked in on an intimate moment and had a pretty good idea there was something going on between us besides a working relationship. He’d encouraged me to pursue it. "Glad to see you two together."

"Yeah. Me too." I didn't mean to sound so sketchy about it. I really was glad. Just nervous, too.

"Speaking of dates, this is my wife Daisy," he said, gesturing to a petite blonde with bobbed hair. "She just talked me and Frank into going off in search of more cream puffs."

"And more of those grilled shrimp kebabs," she added, eagerly.

"And shrimp kebabs. Got it. Would you like to add anything to the order, Sabrina?"

"No, thank you. You can take my empty, though, if you like." I handed him my champagne glass, which I'd been carrying around for the last several minutes even though it had nothing in it.

"Sure thing. We'll be back." He took off with Frank, Roxie's husband, in tow.

As soon as they were gone, Daisy's infectious smile disappeared. "So. Sabrina. Tom's been with Reach since it opened. Worked his way up from the bottom. Then you came in and stole that top position right from under his nose. By all rights, that promotion should have been his. And now we find out you’re sleeping with one of the main men? That's not fishy at all."

Every muscle in my body tensed. My throat felt like I’d swallowed a desert instead of Moscato.

"Not just one of the main men," Roxie added. "I still say she and Weston were together to begin with."

I gaped, unsure what to say. I wanted to defend myself, defend my talent and resume, but nothing they said was untrue.

And I'd expected this might be a problem, but not from Tom Burns. Not from his wife. Not from Roxie. She was supposed to be my friend!

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Burns,” I stammered. “I didn't—"

Daisy suddenly burst into laughter. "I'm just fucking with you. You should've seen your face." Roxie joined in the hysterics.

"Then … you’re not mad at me?" I was confused. Relieved, but confused.

"Mad?" She shook her head, her hair bouncing as she did. "I'm grateful. Tom wanted that promotion, but we have three kids. I would never have seen him, and I didn't want to be a single parent. I’m grateful they found someone competent instead of persuading him to make the jump. And Tom says you're good! Glad to see more women in those exec positions. Congratulations!”

Roxy was still laughing. "Her face. Her face!"

And now I was laughing a bit too. "Thank you. I think."

"I bet you get those kinds of comments all the time," Daisy said. "I should know. I work in an office with all men myself. Real estate. Men don't think we know how to sell anything except our bodies, am I right? But I have the second-highest sales in my team this year. Look at us go!" She patted me on the arm, as though we were old chums now.

"Go us!" I said awkwardly. I liked her. Despite her strange teasing and the fact that it was hard to get a word in edgewise, she was spunky and fun. I was neither. It was always nice to find common ground with someone different.

"If anyone gives you a hard time about dating that fine piece of Kincaid—which all the ladies are jealous about, by the way—don't you even listen to them. You do you, girl. Stand up proud knowing that you deserve to be where you are." Her eyes scanned the crowd as she talked. "Roxie, Frank got distracted by the fondue again. If we want our food, we’re going to have to go get it ourselves.”

With Roxie and Daisy gone, I looked around and realized the rest of the staff had dispersed too. I wasn't so sure that they were as unbothered by my relationship with Donovan as Tom and Daisy—I’d seen the uncomfortable exchange of looks as we approached—but Daisy was right. I needed to do me. And I did deserve to be there. Even though I had fucked not one, but two, men to get there.

Turning, I casually looked for someone to engage with. I spotted a client across the room, but I didn’t want to end up talking shop, so I waved instead. Nate Sinclair was nearby, a woman I didn't recognize on his arm. He seemed engrossed in conversation with the couple standing next to him, and I didn’t want to interrupt. Elizabeth was taking selfies with the trio of older ladies—aunts, if I remembered correctly from her engagement party. Weston was no longer with her. They must've separated from each other in their mingling.

I searched for him, looked for his face amongst the sea of tuxedos and suits, and then stopped suddenly, my heart racing faster, when it landed on a familiar profile. One I hadn't seen in ten long years. His face was fuller than I remembered, his hair shorter, his neck longer.

But I'd never forget that jawline. Never forget those eyes that invoked pure terror in me.

No way in hell would I ever forget Theodore Sheridan.