When I open my eyes, at first it's hard to figure out why I'm so warm and refreshed after the glacial send off to bed he gave me last night.

Then I realize I'm not alone.

“Cal?” I whisper his name, rolling over.

Groaning in his sleep, he twists in the sheets, a sweat halo on his brow. He's had a hard night. There's no question, judging by the strong liquor on his breath and the pallor in his face.

Very slowly, he opens his eyes. “Shit. I fell asleep.”

“Yeah, in my bed.” I give him an accusing look. “Hope there's a good reason you decided to come and lay down next to me.”

He sits up, rubbing his face, not answering for several seconds. “You left a light on. I was drunk. What else is there to say?” He sighs, and then turns to look at me, still not satisfied with his answer. “You looked so peaceful, doll. I couldn't resist. Told myself I'd just have a nap and head to my own bed before you noticed anything. Didn't quite pan out that way.”

“Whatever. At least you're over the cold shoulder last night. But next time, I'd appreciate a little notice if you want this fake engagement thing to drag us to the same bed.”

“Sure, I'll send it certified.” He smirks, but only for a second, because I'm sure the headache from his hangover is making itself known.

God, he looks so pathetic. Infuriating as ever, yet fully able to tug on my sympathies. Short notes for my whole existence with this man.

“Can I make breakfast and bring you some aspirin?” I stand, closing my robe, grateful I slept in it so at least he wouldn't find me in my underwear.

“Please,” he murmurs, reaching for the last of the water bottle next to him. “Should be duck eggs, bacon, and bread in the fridge for toast. Pancake mix, too, if you're feeling adventurous. Surprise me.”

My eye rolling turns into a stare. “Oh, and anything else you'd like, sir? Maybe a nice glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and an avocado spread for your toast?”

“Nah. Aspirin and whatever you'd like to make will do. Better to keep it simple so we can get ready. Soon as I un-fuck my head, I'm taking you out. Hope you decided where you want to go for our date.” His scathing blue eyes are almost normal when he looks at me.

There's that familiar heat in my blood again. I turn away before it has a chance to consume me, heading for the door, ready to get into the kitchen and pretend I'm cooking a lovely breakfast for my equally lovely (ha!) fiancé.

“Oh, and when did you stop talking in your sleep, doll?” he says, when I've got one hand on the door. “Because if you did, I was too out of it to notice. Sleeping through the night real still, real quiet...that's new.”

I pretend I don't hear him. There's no need to start a weird day with more memories, but it seems he isn't giving me much choice.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I'm cooking up omelets and toast. I've kept it simple like he said, lining up the coffee and orange juice in a fancy glass bottle on a counter before he comes in, placing another water and two aspirin at the empty space on the breakfast bar.

Of course, I'm cooking, hopelessly lost in the past.

His sleep comment brings me to Chelle's party, the first and only place he ever saw me sleeping before last night. It was late, it was wild, and completely overwhelming for a girl who'd never so much as seen two people get hot and heavy outside a TV screen before.

Her parent's beers flowed freely, and so did contraband joints, passed around by the oldest kids like candy. The night wore on with my friends and acquaintances disappearing one by one, retreating with their boys into the corners, the closets, wherever they could find a little privacy. And when they couldn't, they had their fun in front of whoever might be watching.

I tried to look away at the clumsy pseudo-sex happening around me. But I was no angel, despite my inexperience. My curiosity kept my eyes on everything until they grew way too heavy sometime after midnight.

“What the fuck are you doing out here alone, doll?” I remember how he woke me up.

Cal's face was just a few inches from mine as he sat next to me, thinner and more innocent in those days. I jumped when I opened my eyes after hearing his words, folding my arms.

“You first. Something weird must definitely be up if the great Cal Randolph isn't necking upstairs with Tina Reynolds, and maybe a couple of her friends, too.” Yes, I was scorned. It was just a few weeks after I'd missed the winter dance, and several months before the disastrous incident made our petty high school quarrels over who's kissing who seem so benign.

“Tina and me were never a thing. Just a date for the dance and some simple-minded fun. Pay more attention to what's going on outside your books, Maddie. There's a whole world out there, you know.” He smiles like he's giving real advice.

It doubles my urge to slap his smug face off. “Sorry, not interested. I think I'll just study hard now so I can save my chastity for college. It's supposed to be a lot more exciting there. People get dorm rooms so they can actually do things in peace.”

“Hmm, very interesting. I thought professors just talked all the time and sent people to the library for research papers. Didn't know people actually had fun, got drunk, or fucked like rabbits. Tell me more.” Swallowing what little was left in his beer can, he crushes it in his fingers for emphasis.

“Ew. I can't stand how that stuff tastes,” I whimper, wrinkling my nose. “Don't know how you do either.”

“It's pretty bad, this cheap ass swill. Think I'll always be a whiskey or scotch man when I'm old enough to cruise the bars. Need something more refined.”

Such a snob That 'swill' is my father's favorite.

His blue gaze falls on me with a curious pull. I'm trying to look away, but my eyes crawl back to his, more frustrated than before. “Don't you wonder what you're missing, doll?”

“Missing? No – especially not with you.”

“Come the fuck on. One kiss won't turn you into a pumpkin. I'll even walk you home after I get some of that sugar under your glasses. Pretty fucking boring around here, anyway.”

Before I can answer, his hand lands on mine. Every impulse in my head screams fight, resist, throw him off, then stand up, and show myself the door.

But nothing is ever easy or obvious with him around.

“Come on. Our little secret,” he whispers, leaning in, his handsome face closer than ever. “There's no one to see us. No one to tell the rest of the school. Scourge and his assholes will never find out.”

I'm silent. His young cheek touches mine, making me feel the faint stubble on his skin. Instant lightning up my spine. I tense, the pressure in my muscles building.

“Kiss me,” he growls again, straight into my ear, nipping at my lobe with his teeth. “Just this once, doll. I know you fucking want to.”

I hate how he rips me open, sees everything underneath so easy. What's the point in hiding your want from a man who smells it coming off you in waves?

I've had enough. I give in. Let him have what he wants, what I want to get over with, because I foolishly think he'll finally leave me alone once it's done.

Oh, but his kiss comes like the morning sun. Bright, invigorating, with just the right golden warmth. My hot breath spills into him, and he takes what he needs with his tongue, melting me against the floor with his fingers tangled in mine, my hips searching his, our mouths fused together in all kinds of wrong.

I can't remember how long we lay tangled together like that. But there were more kisses, more confusion, and a much later walk home when I finally tore myself off him, shaking because my fingers needled their way up his back, desperate to rip away his shirt.

* * *

Back in the present, his chair scrapes the floor behind me, and I jump. It's hard to turn around, pretending to look normal, when I'd started getting wet over my first kiss with this reckless man. “You're just in time. It's ready,” I say, throwing the toast onto our plates and sliding his over.

“Smells fantastic, doll. It's nice having a wife worth waking up to.” He pops his aspirin and we eat our food in happy silence, only making small talk about the day ahead.

I tell him I want to see the city like it's my first time here. At first, he rolls his eyes, telling me Beijing made me more predictable than ever. But it's honestly been years since I've had fun in this city. He tells me to have a second coffee before I shower and we head out because we're going to the best spots, and then some.

Once I'm cleaned up, we're off.

First stop is Pike's Market, where we browse around the kitsch and share a couple pastries, braving the long lines packed with tourists. Then it's the art museum, where he teases me over how long I spend looking at the naked people, paintings and reliefs from so many times and places. He buys me a mug with a rose watercolor on it from the gift shop.

Neither of us comment on the meaning, and risk letting old venom screw up our time together. We're enjoying the moment too much to share our secret any way but silently.

It's also nice to blend in for a change like normal people. The constant gold necklaces, evening dresses, and foodie dinners are nice, sure, but it's just as lovely spending the day melting into the sweet average happening around us.

It's early evening when he reminds me he's rich again. We take his yacht out from the public marina, him at the steering wheel, me hanging on his shoulders as guides my hands on it, and says it's high time I learned to handle his pride and joy.

I laugh, resisting a comment on the ego trip. Or any choice words about penis size involving this very big ship.

We're lucky the weather stays beautiful. There's barely a cloud in the sky as we maneuver around the coast, heading out to some of the nearer islands before we find our way back, watching whales blow jets of water on the horizon. I notice we keep our distance from Bainbridge, where there's nothing but sadness and his sick father wasting away. He won't even look in its direction.

“Scratched your tourist itch yet, or what?” Cal asks, steering us back toward the docks.

“Not until we've seen the Space Needle,” I say, smiling at the Seattle icon on the skyline.

“Whatever, doll. You're lucky it just so happens I have dinner reservations at the best seat in their restaurant tonight.”

“Oh, honey. You're the best fake fiancé a woman could hope for!” I throw my hands around his neck and cling to him, trying not to make it totally obvious how much I enjoy inhaling his scent.

“Best on paper,” he says, enveloping my fingers in his.

Our situation is no less crazy and screwed up than before, this lie we've decided to live for the next few weeks. But it's nice to see he's able to stop being a jackass for a full day, long enough to forget it's only pretend, and only temporary.

* * *

I don't care how touristy or overpriced it is. Up here, at the top of the Space Needle, you can see everything.

We've finished dinner, and we're standing outside on the deck, taking turns with the binoculars peering through the safety wires. I focus on the little cars and people below, each miniature life happening in the night. It's easy to wonder if there's ever someone looking back at just the right moment, sharing my curiosity.

“Planning to stand here all night and people watch?” Cal's rich voice floods my ears, and his hand saunters down my spine, low to the edge of my shorts.

Standing up, I turn around, shooting him a repressed smile. God, even when his fingertips aren't actually on my skin, he triggers desire. One glance at his eyes makes it seethe, a constant rushing thunder in my blood, calling tension, heat, and need between my legs.

“Your turn.” I clear a path to the binoculars. Also put myself further from his reach, before he makes me wetter.

“I think you're confused, doll. Unlike you, I haven't left this city since Maynard. Didn't do my time in Beijing, London, or Bumfuck, Egypt. I've seen Seattle thousands of times. Only scenery I'm really interested in tonight is right in front of me.” He steps forward, taking my cheek in his hand, folding an arm around my waist.

“Cal, no.” It's hard to speak. Even harder to breathe through the heat in my lungs and the flutter in my heart, without letting him hear the fire crackling in my body. “Isn't this what we're trying to avoid?'

His intense blue eyes narrow, clear as day. “Things change all the time. Look where you're at today: high society, international businesswoman, soon to be hitched to a world class marketing billionaire.”

“If it's mission accomplished, you mean.” I don't really need to remind him of the high stakes we're playing for with this lie that's starting to feel like blatant truth.

But I'm glad I do because it sends his fingers through my hair. His hand glides up my neck, cradles the back of my head, and twines my dark locks. When he tips my head up, moving his face closer, his eyes are more beautiful and bewildering than the city's own nightscape.

“I'll win what's mine, Maddie. Everything. Never met a challenge I couldn't own.” His fierce stare tells me we're not just talking about his father's company or the family fortune anymore. “We've already broken so many fucking rules. Tell me again, what's one more?”

He knows the dangers like I do, what we stand to lose if we cross the ultimate line.

Doesn't stop his lips from coming down on mine a hot second later like an avalanche. Nothing stops me from loving it.

Our lips dance, drunk on mutual hunger. One hand pulls my hair harder, sending new thrills down my shoulders, and the other slides to my ass. He pushes me against the wall while his hand cups, searches, and squeezes, perfectly timed to his tongue on mine.

Everything goes from zero to a hundred on the heat scale. I've never done anything like this, kissing my dark desire so wild and freely in the open. Several tourists walk by, slowing to gawk when they see us, and it still doesn't slow me down.

I fall into him, shame and blush and all. Sinking into his enigma quickens my lust, turns my pussy into one more Randolph property. I'm ashamed to admit how much I want him, but God, I can't control this.

So we kiss, the only thing we can do, tangling our bodies, minds, and lips tighter. The lightning seconds flash by, lust incarnate at six hundred feet over the Emerald City.

Nothing will tear me away, or disrupt this beautiful moment until it's over. If Mount Rainier split open and showered us in gold, I'd still be buried in his lips, his fingers maneuvering around my thigh, devilishly close to everything we've tried so hard to ignore.

“Do you have any fucking clue how many nights you were my wet dream before everything went to shit?” he growls, tearing himself away. His fingers pinch my chin, keeping my face up, a hostage for his blistering blue eyes. “Even after it, when I spent my year in juvey, and came out desperate to make up for lost time, I never forgot how good you tasted that night at Chelle's party. I would have fucked you senseless a long time ago if it hadn't gone bad, Maddie. I never stopped dreaming, imagining, wanting like I was losing my mind...and now I'm done with all that. I don't want to see you naked in my head anymore if it's nothing but a goddamned tease.”

Holy mother. What do I even say?

I've never had a man proclaim love for me before. This isn't that.

It's a declaration of lust, primal and panty-soaking hot. It's an invitation to wonders with incomprehensible strings attached. I wish just for one night I could shut off my brain.

Stop thinking. Pull him in. Open my legs and my mouth for another kiss after I breathe the only word blazing a fire through my core, threatening to burn me to cinders if I don't let it out.

“Tell me I'm not crazy, doll,” he breathes, touching his forehead to mine, holding his delicious lips just out of reach until I give him what he needs. “Tell me we're able to break the rules, muddle through what happens when we do, and not fuck it all up. I want this. I want you. Want you so bad I'll spend the next thousand nights regretting this one if I can't bring you home, to my bed, and take what I should've laid claim to seven fucking years ago. You feel it, too, don't you? Maddie, I know you do. We share the same torture, wanting like this.”

Again, that word. Wanting.

It drips in me like poison, seethes when it touches my resistance, and ignites it like napalm.

How can I say no?

In what bland, rational, sexless universe can I control the ache between my legs, the wanton need to find out what's through that last forbidden door together?

“Answer me, beautiful,” he whispers, harsher than before. His forehead presses mine, sending those blue eyes everywhere.

“Yes.” So simple, so powerful, it comes out in a whimper. “Yes, Cal. It's worth a chance.”

He breaks into the world's biggest grin. I haven't seen that kind of smile on his lips since we were kids, when our time at Maynard shielded us. Before we imagined the darkness we're dealing with now.

“I'm calling the car,” he says, devouring me in another kiss as he reaches for his phone.

“I need to find the ladies room,” I tell him, reluctantly tearing myself away. “Then we'll go. I'm so ready.”

My body is, at any rate. My brain still won't shut up, thinking through everything that could go wrong, but it's protests are dying by the kiss. I walk away, shooting him one last sultry look over my shoulder, heading for the bathroom.

I need water. My palm collects a splash of cool I send across my face. It calms me enough to straighten my hair, which is messier than I'd imagined from our very public make out session minutes ago.

I'd might as well enjoy its shape for the next hour or so. Because once he's done with me, I'm certain it won't be the same.

Jesus, I don't even know how easy it is to fix sex hair. I've never had it before.

In all my years since him, I've never gone all the way with a man. Not even once.

Maybe it was the guilt over everything that happened. Maybe just my single-minded focus, finishing college and working to make a dent in my loans, then launching a career. Or maybe it's because I know that if I ever gave my V-card to anyone else, rather than the man who was always meant to have it, it'd wipe away a piece of me forever.

Tonight, it's his. Not just pieces, but everything.

Yes, it's a contradiction. Harrowing and enthralling, sensual and scary, so many kinds of right and wrong twisted in knots I won't unravel in ten lifetimes. Calvin Randolph is my life's gravity, always holding me in his orbit, and now I'm about to dive straight to his core, while he drives himself to mine.

Hard. Deep. Breathless. Irrevocable.

Those eyes of his, fixed on mine, on top of me or however else he'd like...mercy.

Every time I think about having him to myself tonight, it's hard to move. Everything he said about the dreams, the fantasy...it's been my reality since the day he disappeared through a fog of my tears.

It's the buildup I've waited years for, soon to be complete in its sweet crescendo. But now that I hear it coming, feel it in my very bones, it's as terrifying as it is wondrous.

I'm just thankful I'm alone to regain my wits. Practicing my breathing, I stare into the mirror, reapplying the subtle red lipstick worn down by his feral lips.

You can do this, Maddie. Without destroying yourself. Go out there, enjoy it, and rock his freaking world.

I'm as pumped as I'll ever be, and ready to move again, when the loudest sound I've ever heard goes off. I almost hit the ceiling.

It's just my phone. I slap the skin over my rampaging heart, digging in my purse with a crease in my brow. Someone's sending texts. A lot of them.

I see Kat's name on the screen and groan, scrolling through the 'sis, are you there?' messages until I get to the end.

Kat: You need to see something, and we need to talk. Like now.

I tap out a one word reply and press send. I'm annoyed to keep him waiting, but something's up. She rarely reaches out to me like this and blows up my inbox.

Maddie: WHAT?

Kat: I saw him at the bar last night. Couldn't put my finger on why this man looked so familiar until I looked online. You'd better ask your pretender about these pics.

My heart leaps into my throat. I'm waiting, impatiently tapping my foot on the tiled floor, while the four pictures she's sent over load.

The first two are bad. It's such dark lighting and there are so many people in the way I can't make out anything.

The other angles are better. So good, it's easy to make out that face. Those firm blue eyes. Glowing with delight as he holds another woman's hand, a familiar face drooling all over him, flanked by dirty blonde hair.

Tina. I'd remember her wretched smile anywhere. It hasn't changed a day since he asked her to the winter dance, pushed her against the wall in front of me, and took her lips with what I'd always believed was just an exaggerated heat.

My lust takes a shot through the heart. My blood pressure hurtles into the danger zone. Kat texts me again, feeding the urge to march this phone back to the main deck, and hurl it into the park below. Knowing I'd see him is the only thing that stops me.

Kat: Is it really him?

I can't bring myself to answer. It's bad enough admitting when your little sister is right. Worse when you know she'll be eager to enjoy her smug satisfaction, saving me from something I should've seen coming.

Maddie: Tell mom and dad I'll be home soon. I want the guest room tonight.

It's all I can bring myself to say. She texts me a few more times, and I ignore them all. I'm too busy finding my way out, skirting the exit to the bullet elevator, which takes me down to the main level without having to face him again.

I sidestep our car, hoping his driver, Emilio, won't notice me, speed walking another block to put as much distance as I can between heartbreak. By the time my Uber pulls up on the curb, I have tears in my eyes. I'm able to hold them in until I pull up his number, fire off a message, and toss my phone into my purse after switching it off, wishing it'd never been invented to make torture only a few easy taps away.

Don't wait up for me, I told him. I know about Tina. I saw the pics at the bar, and I can't see you tonight.

The night's only mercy is the fact that my driver minds his own business while I blot my eyes with a tissue, desperate to thwart this sadness before it becomes an ugly cry.

It's a hell ride and a half home. Worse when I crawl through the backdoor, hoping to avoid my sister or my parents, and find everybody relaxing by the windows next to the kitchen.

Of course. What else would they be doing on a cool summer night?

I have exactly ten seconds to find a way to keep it together before I break down in front of everyone, especially when mom stands up, Kat smirking behind her.

“Madeline, what's wrong?”

It's probably a minute before I'm able to answer. “Nothing, nothing. I need some water. Be right out.”

I can't face them again without purging this pain. I rip the ring with the disgustingly huge diamond set in rose carved gold off my finger, stuff it in my purse, and head to the sink for a cool drink.

Evidently, It's easier to clear the heartache lodged in my throat than the sudden emptiness I feel on my finger.

I feel like a fool for not realizing it sooner, three simple truths collapsing on a soul under a siege.

Can't go on trusting him.

Can't keep pretending it'll ever be different.

Can't forget those hideous pictures.

I. Can't. Do. This.

Admitting it will gut me later, but right now I'm just numb. I never should've trusted him.

It's hard to sit down with my family and make small talk like a normal human being, ignoring knowing glances from my sis while I make up a story about bad oysters and cramps.

What's one more lie when the big one killing me is over?

This fake engagement is done.