I couldn't get her off my mind.

The mental image of Peyton beneath me, her body squirming to get closer to mine, and her mouth parting to whisper my name was all I could think of. After one night together, I was completely addicted, and I knew I'd never have enough of her. I'd fallen head over heels for this girl who was completely off limits for me, but damn it to hell if I wasn't going to try and get closer to her.

I was falling in love.

It was a feeling I'd never been familiar with. The strange sensation sent my head spinning, and I couldn't stop my mind from filling with images of Peyton and replaying the words she'd spoken.

The way she'd begged, the way her body responded to mine, those little gasps when she threw her head back in absolute ecstasy... she was a drug and I'd never get enough of her. And I didn't mind being addicted one fucking bit.

Right now, I was driving home for the weekend, enjoying the breeze of the late summer coming through the windows. I'd rolled them down, forgoing the AC in favor of the fresh air. I loved driving by the beach, and being close to the water with its salty sea breeze served to clear my head again. My thoughts were still on Peyton, but the guilt was beginning to roll in.

I wanted to tell her the truth on our date.

Honestly, I did.

That was the plan—take her to the beach, have an amazing date set up just for her, and finally explain everything. I knew she'd be pissed, but I also knew we had to deal with it before it was too late to 'fess up. If I didn't tell her, she'd only get angrier when it finally came out... and the last thing I wanted was for Peyton to dig up the truth herself. I wanted to be the one to tell her.

So that was my intention for the evening. Tell the truth.

But when I was actually there on that beach, things were different to what I imagined. I opened my mouth to say the words so many times, and I chickened out on every single opportunity I got. She just looked so damn happy, and the way she looked at me made my heart soar. I could feel the words bubbling up inside me, but I couldn’t get them out.

I was afraid that if I did, she’d never look at me that way again.

I couldn't bear to take that happiness from her and ruin what we had when things were this good, and I didn't want to ruin her perfect night by shattering her illusions of me. And then her mouth was on mine and every worry, every problem, was long forgotten. All that mattered was our bodies melding together.

So I figured I could wait a little while longer. It wasn't like a couple more days would hurt—I was going to tell her. I just didn't want to burst her bubble yet.

Still, the guilt was tearing me up inside. Despite everything, despite how happy she was, I should’ve fucking told her. Ripped the Band-Aid off and stopped acting like a pussy. Now when I finally did tell her, she was gonna be even more pissed, because we’d slept together; taken that extra step in our relationship. Fuck… I should’ve resisted. Should’ve called it an early night and taken her home untouched.

Hindsight was a real bitch.

The drive home passed way too quickly for my liking. I wasn't completely ready to face my parents just yet, and I had an idea on the way to their house that I deemed genius in my head.

I was going to get my mom some flowers. She loved gestures like that, and it was a sure way of getting her off my back, at least for a little while. It sucked that things had to be like this. My parents and I actually used to be really close. It was only since their obsession with their competitor started that they became so neurotic and demanding.

I stopped by a grocery store on the way home, almost forty-five minutes away from the Mirabella. Climbing out of the car, I squinted against the sunlight and wished once again that I'd told Peyton the truth. Yeah, I didn't want to ruin the moment, but I knew the truth coming out was inevitable. And the more I postponed telling her, the more trouble I was getting myself in.

My mind was filled with her—as usual—as I browsed the aisles of the grocery store. It was one I hadn't gone to since they remodeled, and I was struggling to find their fresh flowers aisle. Walking through the store, I kept getting to the most random parts of it, and somehow I ended up in the hair and beauty section, struggling to find my way out. It was like a damn vortex. How the fuck did girls even find their way out of here?

Just as I was passing one of the hair products aisle, I spied a familiar face.

She wore a plaid shirt tied around her waist, cut-off denim shorts and a band tee. There was also a baseball cap on her head, but I recognized her right away.

"DeeDee—Sorry, Allegra?" I called out.

The girl turned around to face me. It was her, just like I'd suspected. I raised my hand in a wave. She was standing with her back facing a shelf which was lined with several boxes of hair dye.

I was about to walk over when she stooped down to another shelf, grabbed a bottle of conditioner, and then left in a hurry. I stared at her retreating back with furrowed brows, wondering why she'd blown me off like that.

I guess she was too high and mighty to be seen with the likes of me now that she had a new identity as a rich girl.

Peyton had mentioned a while ago that they'd struggled to get along at first, but I wasn't about to question Allegra over her attitude. Her life, her business. I shrugged and turned around, and I somehow made it out of the hair and beauty maze toward the front of the room where there was a large display of fresh bouquets. Duh, of course there was. I'd walked right past it the first time around.

As I paid for a bunch of peonies, Mom's favorite, my eyes scoured the store, but there was no sign of Allegra. She must've left in a hurry, and I couldn't help wondering why my presence in the grocery store freaked her out so much. I guess she did have a panic attack in the hotel that first day, though, so she was likely prone to them, and right now she was probably just nervous and shy from all the media attention she'd been getting. I decided to let it go and paid for my flowers before getting back in the car, placing the bouquet on the driver's seat.

It only took me another ten minutes to get to my parents' house. I pulled into the driveway and stared at the McMansion that awaited me. A deep sigh rolled off my lips and I got out of the car, taking the bouquet with me. The house screamed nouveau riche—from the gold plated Corinthian columns lining the entrance to our house, to all the cars in the garage attached to the house. My dad had a hobby of collecting them, and my mom matched him in getting the newest designer pieces with matching plastic surgery. I found the attempts to show off our wealth a little desperate, but then again, it wasn't my money, and they were free to do whatever the fuck they wanted to with it.

I walked up to the house, and our housekeeper, Darcy, opened the door for me. She greeted me with a smile and a hug like my mother so rarely did these days.

"How've you been, Darce?" I asked with a grin. She filled me in on everything that had been going on around the house as I followed her inside and into the dining room, where my parents were sitting stiffly at the table.

"You're late," my father said. I walked up to Mom, handing her the bouquet of flowers.

She was engrossed in the invisible lines on her face in a pocket mirror, but her face softened when she saw me extend an arm with the peonies.

"Oh, Kaden," she said. "So kind of you. Thank you for remembering."

I sat down at the table, and my parents chattered on as Darcy started bringing out food. I chomped down my Salisbury steak and gorged myself on the mushy peas. Throughout the lunch, I felt a thick tension in the air. My parents were obviously desperate to bring up the topic of the Cadwells, but they weren't going to do it in front of Darcy. As such, my plan was to keep her around for as long as possible to try and dodge the topic.

After twenty minutes of chatting to our housekeeper, my dad finally cleared his throat.

"That will be all, Darcy, thank you," he said. She left with her shoulders pulled up nervously. Finally, Dad turned to face me, and I knew it was time to face the music. "So, Kaden. Have you made any progress on what we've been discussing?"

"Actually, I have," I said.

“You found more documents that support our suspicions?” he asked in a gleeful tone.

I shook my head. "No. But I've been going through the reports again, and I talked to a friend with business experience. We think the missing money could’ve been embezzled by an accountant at the Mirabella. It’s far more likely that that’s the case.”

"An accountant?" Mom raised her eyebrows. "But we know it’s the Cadwells!"

I suppressed a strong urge to roll my eyes.

“No, you don’t." I shook my head vehemently. "This is exactly why I asked my friend for advice before talking to you about it again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re biased. You want to take the Cadwells down a notch. So you’re desperate to believe it was them. But Mom, Dad, trust me, it's not them. They're just not like that; not those kind of people."

"What kind?" Mom asked sharply. "Like us?"

"No, not like us." I shook my head again. "Really, Mom, that's not what I was getting at..."

"Sure," she said with an offended sniff. I glanced at the peonies in a vase on the table, regretting even buying them. Lotta good they did me.

Well, if they were already offended… I may as well tell them the unvarnished truth.

"I really think we should give up on this ridiculous plan,” I went on. "I realize this doesn’t suit your little narrative, but the Cadwells probably aren’t committing any sort of tax evasion, let alone anything else dodgy. There's a team of sixteen accountants, and like I said, one of them is most likely responsible for the missing money. The Cadwells aren’t doing anything wrong, for Christ’s sake."

"It's not the accountants," Dad said stubbornly. "It's that wretched Vincent. God, you almost sound as if you want to help the Cadwells!"

"Dad…." I was getting damn tired of this. "It's not Vincent. Peyton told me he can be a bit of a dick sometimes, but he’s not a—"

"Peyton?" he interrupted, watching me closely.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I couldn't believe I'd slipped.

"Yeah, Peyton," I went on in as casual a tone as I could muster. "Their daughter."

"I know who Peyton Cadwell is," Dad said coolly. "You’ve been talking to her, have you?"

I was nervous, but I did my best to hide it. "Yeah, we've been spending some time together," I admitted reluctantly.

"I knew it," Dad grunted. He was staring at the table in front of him, his eyes filled with fury when he finally looked up at me. "You're sleeping with her. The Cadwell girl."

"Dad..." I tried to sound placating, but he wouldn't even let me. He just slammed a fist on the table and got up from his chair, throwing his napkin on the table.

"You'll have to excuse me," he said. "I've suddenly lost my appetite."

"Dad, wait," I said. "It's not what you think..."

"So you haven't slept with her?" he cut in. Only silence followed, until he chuckled bitterly to himself. "Don't bother, Kaden. I knew we shouldn't have trusted you."

“Trusted me to do your dirty work? Yeah, maybe not,” I shot back.

"Kaden," Mom said, already on the verge of hysterics. "You know nothing can come out of this, right? You can never be with this girl. She's... she's..."

"She's what, Mom?" I asked. "She's done absolutely nothing wrong. You and Dad are so prejudiced against that whole family, and they've done absolutely nothing to you. You need to get the fuck over it."

"Over it?" Mom shrieked. "I'm never getting 'over it'. They’ve been taking our business for years. They owe us!"

"They owe us nothing," I replied, getting up from my seat and grabbing my jacket. "And I've had enough of this shit."

"Kaden," Mom said, her voice rising in panic. "You can't be with her!"

"I'll do what I think is right," I replied coolly, giving Dad one more look. "You got anything left to say? About what I've been doing, the stuff I've been finding? I think I've done a good job for you… even if it’s dirty work. I’ve been very thorough, and I haven’t missed a thing."

He stared at me for a long time, and then took a step closer. For a second, I thought he might hug me for some strange reason. But then he pointed toward the door instead.

"Get out."

"Gladly," I replied.

I stormed out of the room, heading straight for my car. I needed to speak to Peyton.

It was finally time to come clean.