“There you are,” I say, striding toward Quinn. She’s sitting under a rose-covered terrace in the garden.

Quinn glances up, her body stiffening as she recognizes me. “You should’ve saved your energy for all the congratulations you got after your big surprise.”

I stop. For a moment, we just stare at each other. “I left right after you did,” I say. “I’ve been searching for you for over an hour.”

“Oh, cry me a river,” Quinn barks. She gets up and marches down the path in the opposite direction.

“Quinn!” I shout, but she doesn’t turn around.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Please wait.” I pick up my pace.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she snaps.

“Then let me explain—”

“I don’t care! I’ll never trust another thing you say, Archer.”

“Hell on Earth, woman,” I growl as I grab her arm and spin her around. I search her face, hoping for a sign that she might forgive what I’ve done, but I only see flushed cheeks and thunderous brows. She’s livid.

“There’s a reason I proposed tonight,” I say. “This wasn’t my idea.”

“You still did it. Now let me go,” Quinn cries, tugging her arm in my grasp.

“You don’t understand the situation I’m in—”

“Let me go!”

“Not until you listen!” I yell back. Quinn goes still, and I let my arm fall to my side. “There, was that so hard?” I ask, ignoring Quinn’s withering look. “My father talked to me this morning and gave me the ring. Said I should propose because we’re so in love.”

“Aren’t we good actors,” she snarls. “Didn’t it cross your mind that he said this on the day of his fundraiser?”

I nod slowly.

She snorts. “Wow. So now I get to be little miss campaign fiancée?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. My parents think we’re really in love. And they do like you—”

“I don’t care what your parents think,” she says, throwing up her hands. My eyes dart to the rock on her ring finger as it catches the moonlight. “I care about what you think. Why did you propose? It’s not like it was part of your dad’s deal.”

I run a shaky hand over my chin. I want to say that the thought of being engaged to her doesn’t make me want to run for the hills. I want to tell her that seeing her beautiful face in a crowd of strangers is like a breath of fresh air for a drowning man. I want to admit that only half of me is doing this for my father, and the other half—the real half—is doing this for myself.

But I don’t. Instead, I tell her a lie. A safe lie that protects me. “Because it was good for my image and my father’s campaign.”

Quinn shakes her head. “I liked you, Archer. I thought we were becoming something more than a business arrangement.”

“You know this wasn’t supposed to be about love,” I say, hiding my vulnerability behind hurtful words.

“I meant as friends,” she snaps, “but you’ve killed that.” She turns her back to me.

“Quinn,” I say, gently touching her shoulder. She shrugs me off. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up and that I went back on our agreement.”

“You’re sorry?” she says in a hard voice. “You knew how I felt about marriage and you still proposed. Dating is one thing, but committing yourself to someone for the rest of your life?”

“It doesn’t mean anything. It’s only for show.”

Quinn faces me. “It means something to me. And it means something to your parents if they gave you that ring.”

Damn. “I wasn’t thinking about that at the time,” I admit.

“Of course you weren’t,” she says bitterly. “You only thought of yourself and your image.”

“That’s harsh,” I argue.

“I’m such an idiot for thinking things were changing between us,” she says under her breath. She turns to go, but I grab her arm.

“Wait. I wanted to respect your stance, and I was going to, but then Dalton got up there and started spewing all that crap about family—”

“You need to get over this…feud with your brother,” Quinn interrupts, twisting her arm that I’m holding.

I pull her back to me. “I don’t have a feud with my brother.”

“I want my arm back!”

“I’m trying to apologize!”

“Save it. I’m not some pawn in your war to one-up Dalton.”

“I’m not using you,” I say, tightening my grasp. “I would never use you.”

Her brows go jagged. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve loved spending time with you—”

“Let me go!” she cries, yanking her arm in an effort to free herself.

“Stop interrupting me!” I shout back. I wrench my other hand through my hair, trying not to focus on the beautiful face glaring up at me. How the hell am I supposed to stay in control with those big, hurt-filled eyes laying waste to my pride?

Quinn pushes on my chest with her free hand. “You have broken my trust!” she says, her chest rising and falling in quick pants.

I narrow my eyes. “Quinn—”

“And your word!” Tears spring into her eyes. “I thought we had something, but you…you threw it away.”

“We do have something, Quinn,” I plead. “We’re engaged—”

“Fake engaged,” she snaps. “I’m your fake fiancée, remember?”

“You’re not fake to me,” I say, pinning her arms to her sides. My self-control strains against its chains.

“Then what am I?” Quinn demands with fiery eyes.

I draw a thumb over her full bottom lip. “You’re mine.”

Quinn sucks in a breath. “I’m not yours,” she whispers.

I flinch like she’s struck me. “Like hell you aren’t,” I growl, the little that remains of my self-restraint wiped away by those three words. I wrap my arm around her waist and force us closer, pressing her soft curves into my chest. I try to hold back, try to stay in control, but I’m helpless against my desire to have her…to taste her.

I bring my lips crashing down onto hers. Quinn tastes as sweet as she looks. Three months of pent-up tension and want and need are poured into this kiss. It’s all I can do to keep from throwing her over my shoulder and taking her to bed.

I force myself to pull away. A gasp of pleasure escapes Quinn’s lips as they part from mine, sending a shudder of longing through me. I fight to catch my breath as I unwrap my arm from her waist and step back. I watch in slow motion as Quinn moves away from me. Her hand flutters to her neck.

“Don’t…ever do that again,” she whispers.

I want to tell her she’s wrong, that I’ll do it again the next chance I get, but she’s stolen my voice along with my heart.

“I-I’m going for a walk,” Quinn stammers. “Don’t follow me.”

She has nothing to fear—I’m rooted to the spot. The taste of Quinn lingers on my lips, hijacking my thoughts and piercing my defenses. Why did I have to lose control? That kiss may have ruined everything between us, and if it didn’t, it made things awkward. We’ve flown straight past “just friends” to “who the hell knows?”

I stir, forcing my voice out of my tight throat. “I won’t kiss you again until you ask me,” I finally respond.

Quinn pauses. “That will never happen.”

I remember how she looked when we pulled away from that kiss: pink cheeks, lips parted, eyes sparkling. The memory sends a shot of adrenaline through me.

Never say never, East.

Quinn wants me as much as I want her. Now I need to get her to admit it.