A case of Kentucky bourbon in my arms, I arrived at Tilbury Manor at four P.M. sharp on a Friday afternoon—half an hour earlier than Aly had asked me to be there.

She’d clearly been here for hours already. The drawing room looked like something out of…I don’t know what. An especially posh storybook, maybe? Tables, each one draped in different shades of silk, lined the walls. They were topped with hundreds—had to be hundreds—of tall, thin candles, some set higher than others in elegant pewter candlesticks, and flower arrangements that perfectly matched the silk tablecloths. Outside the far windows, café lights were strung across the terrace, already lit against the autumn gloom. Bruno Mars crooned softly in the background.

It was stunning. Romantic. I knew straightaway Kit and Emily would adore it.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw Aly in a far corner. She gave instructions to a waiter (I’d called the caterer this morning to triple check the menu, the timing, the uniforms the wait staff would wear) before turning back to her laptop.

I set the bourbon on the table beside her computer. The bottles rattled in the box, making her jump. She whipped around, the backs of her thighs pressed against the table as her hand went to her chest.

“Rob!” Her eyes caught on mine. “Hey. Hi. Hi! You’re early.”

I tried very hard not to check her out. I did not want to notice how sexy she looked in her curve-hugging black lace dress. How full and high her tits were. How the curves of her ass would fit perfectly in my hands.

I tried, and God damn it, I failed. I wanted to get her naked. Hike that dress up and fuck her right here on the table.

I blamed my raging desire for her on the dry spell I was currently experiencing. I hadn’t shagged anyone since Aly had ended our little arrangement. I told myself it was because I’d been too busy at the foundation. I was working fourteen hour days, which didn’t leave much time for extracurricular activities. But if I was being honest, I just couldn’t muster any interest in my usual hook-ups. I definitely had no interest in picking up new ones.

I had no clue why.

I cleared my throat. I had to get a hold of myself. No matter how much I wanted Aly, she didn’t want me. Even if she did, I could not touch her. She was looking for things I wasn’t able to give her.

“You look beautiful,” I said. Her eyes, uncertain, were glued to mine.

“Thanks,” she said. “You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

I looked at her for a beat too long.

I blinked, looking away.

“So, clearly I didn’t get here early enough, because this place looks spectacular. Why didn’t you let me help you with all this?” I gestured to the room around us.

She swallowed, an audible sound. It hit me that she looked a little tired. More than a little. “I had it handled. Have it handled, I mean.”

“I told you I wanted to help. How long have you been here?”

Her cheeks were pink. Putting a hand on her face, she looked away. “Rob, you have helped. More than I expected you to, anyway. The caterers have been awesome so far.”

“Aly. What time did you get here?”

A pause. “Six.”

“Six? As in six this morning?” I checked my watch. “Aly, that’s ten hours.”

“Yeah.” She met my eyes. “So what? You know how nuts I am about this stuff. I had a lot to do.”

“I get that. You didn’t have to do it alone, though.”

Crossing her arms, she arched an eyebrow. “You’d really wake up at the crack of dawn to help me arrange flowers? Please.”

“That’s fair. But I would have if you’d asked me.”

Aly shook her head. “I told you, Rob. I’ve got it handled. At least I hope I do.”

“If that’s what you say, boss,” I said. “Always such an overachiever.”

“A shitty overachiever.” She grinned. “But I’ll take the title.”

“You do know it’s going to be lovely. Right?”

“What?”

“The party.” I raised my brows at the room around us. “Just because Kit is Kit—”

“A prince?” Aly tilted her head. “Next in line to the British throne?”

“Yes. Just because he is those things doesn’t mean he expects this big fancy blow out. We could’ve met at a pub for some pints and called it a day, and I’m relatively certain Kit and Emily would still adore it.”

Aly swallowed again. “I know. I just want them to have the best of everything.”

“I do too. But let’s not kill ourselves trying to make that happen, yeah?”

“Easier said than done.” She scoffed. “At least for me.”

The strap of her dress fell down her shoulder. I imagined pushing the other one down, too, pushing the whole damn dress down until she was standing naked in front of me.

Bloody hell. I had to get out of here.

“I’ll get the bar started,” I said. I turned and grabbed the box of bourbon.

I lifted the box and headed for the kitchen. For half a second my eyes flicked to Aly. She’d turned away from me, bending over her laptop. Her ass was on full display. Was she wearing knickers? I couldn’t see any lines.

The thought that she was bare underneath that dress, the thin material all that separated her perfect little cunt from me, made me want to jump out the nearest window and end it all. Or touch her. Either one.

I imagined she was wet. Just soft and swollen enough for me to slide a finger—

“Pardon me, mate!”

I hadn’t realized I’d crashed into something—someone—until I turned and saw a bloke holding his hands up, the box pressed into his chest. His eyes dipped to the bourbon as he stepped back. “Precious cargo you’ve got there. Wouldn’t want it to break.”

My skin prickled with the cold creep of recognition. This was Philip. Had to be.

I just didn’t want to believe it.

“Who are you?” The words came out sounding just as rude as I’d intended.

He held out his hand. “Philip Hartley. Nice to meet you.”

He was dressed in a shiny suit that was three shades too slick, like his hair. His sleeve had pulled back when he’d offered his hand, revealing a gold Rolex the size of a satellite dish. His smile was fake. Or friendly. I couldn’t tell.

What a fuckwad.

I shifted the box under one arm and took his hand. He didn’t flinch when I firmed my grip. “Rob.” I glanced at Aly. “You didn’t tell me we were bringing dates.”

Glancing at me over her shoulder, Aly cocked a brow. “I wanted to invite Philip, so I did. He accepted. Now he’s here. That’s kind of how these things work. I offered you a plus-one on your invitation.” She smiled at Philip. Then she turned back to her computer and continued typing.

“Nice to meet you,” Philip repeated.

I ignored him. I felt a burst of anger—unjustified, unwelcome—tinged with more than a little embarrassment. I was embarrassed because I was angry. This wasn’t like me. I did not get jealous. Ever. But suddenly I was vibrating with it.

Aly brought Philip. What did that mean? Were they getting serious? Did he know if she was wearing underwear or not?

Did he get to fuck her the way I wanted to?

The idea popped into my head, fully formed and ready for action. It was stupid. Reckless. But that was my MO, wasn’t it? It’s what people expected of me. The idea was just bold enough to catch Aly off guard. And if I caught her off guard, maybe she’d stop smiling like that at this bell end date of hers. Maybe she’d get a taste of the jealousy that was currently cutting off my air supply.

With my free hand, I reached for my phone inside my pocket. “I’m going to take it.”

“Take what?” Aly said without turning around.

I hit Francesca’s number. “That plus one.”