Rowan

“Is this really necessary?” Hannah stumbles toward the car, Keir’s agents flanking her sides as I watch from a rolled-down window. Her eyes are unfocused and half-closed and her words are slurred and drawn out.

Oh, Hannah.

And here I thought she might actually have a chance at dethroning my golden child status, something I’d have handed over willingly, crown, scepter, and all.

“Rowan!” Hannah’s eyes widen when she sees me. “Tell these guys to let me go!”

One of the men gets the door and helps my sister in. She takes a seat between the two of us, and suddenly the interior of the car reeks of cheap liquor. All these college kids with rich parents and bottomless bank accounts, and they still buy the bargain-basement alcohol.

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” I say after giving the driver my address. I’m taking her home to my place until she sobers up. “You’re only nineteen.”

She rolls her eyes, “Not all of us are perfect little Mary Sues and wait until our twenty-first birthday.”

I fight a smile. If she only knew how I’d tossed back wine coolers every summer at our family’s Newport estate with the boys down the road at the tender age of sixteen. Still amazes me to this day that no one ever suspected a thing.

Maybe it’s a gift.

Or maybe I’m just skilled at making people believe what they want to believe.

“Who is this guy?” Hannah turns toward Keir, her elbows dangling between her knees as she slouches forward. “Who are you?”

Tugging the hem of my dress down and silently thanking the stars that my sister’s too drunk to see how revealing it is, I say, “He’s a friend.”

“For now,” Keir says, eyes flicking to mine.

“For always.” I challenge his stare.

“Does … your friend have a name?” Hannah slurs.

“He does.” I restrain a smile.

“Keir Montgomery,” he says, extending his hand and straightening his shoulders.

The car is silent, as if we’re all waiting for my sister to realize she’s sitting next to the youngest son of the President of the United States of America.

“Okay.” Hannah shrugs before leaning back against the seat, her eyes drifting shut. Within a minute, her mouth is hanging open and she’s out cold.

The driver pulls up to my apartment building twenty minutes later, and I elbow my sister. She needs to wake up because there’s no way in hell I can lug her five foot nine frame up to my apartment. Not by myself, and definitely not in these heels.

She doesn’t so much as stir.

“I’ll have the guys help you get her up there,” Keir says, as if he read my mind. His door opens and he gets out first, saying something to one of his agents. A moment later, one of them slides her out, like a sleeping toddler, and hoists her over his shoulder.

Readying my key card, we head inside, only from the corner of my eye, I watch as Keir follows us.

He’s coming.

Upstairs.

To my apartment.

We trail across the lobby, which is fortunately empty this time of night, and ride the elevator to the sixth floor. My apartment is the second door on the left.

The guys get Hannah situated on my sofa, and I grab her a water, a blanket, and a puke bowl just in case. She mumbles something I can’t comprehend and rolls over, letting one lanky gam hang off the edge.

Keir turns to his agents. “Give me a minute.”

Just like that, they’re gone and it’s just the two of us standing in the middle of my cozy, lilac-scented apartment. Plus one out-cold Hannah.

“So,” he says, closing the space between us. “About that date tomorrow.”

My lips part. I don’t want to reject him after he’s done something so kind for me.

“I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for right now,” I say, infusing a cocktail of regret and apologies into my tone.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for right now.” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“You couldn’t possibly know that. You don’t know me, Keir. Not at all.” Biting my bottom lip, I shake my head. “And I need someone who can love me for tonight, not someone who can love me for the rest of my life. And that’s not what you’re looking for. You made that perfectly clear at your place.”

He huffs, dragging his palm along his chiseled jaw as he glances over my shoulder and toward my living room window. I expect him to walk away, to accept rejection like a gentleman, with class and a head held high.

“If you ever change your mind,” I add, “about the whole settling down thing … if you’re ever looking for something … fun … and casual …” I turn around to make sure Hannah’s still sleeping. She is.

“There are girls you fuck and girls you get to know first,” he says. “And believe me, I know the difference. I know what kind of girl you are. I knew from the moment I saw you.”

There’s a swirl in my stomach that doesn’t belong there and a smile fighting its way to my lips. I hate how good his words feel, but I remind myself I’m still in a vulnerable place. I’m walking around with a shattered-and-glued-together heart. It isn’t the same as it was before. It acts a little strange sometimes.

“I’m tired of the chase, Rowan. I’m tired of games and bullshit and lies,” he says. “I’m over it. I’m over that life. You might not believe me—hell, you don’t have to believe me. But at least give me a chance to prove it before writing me off. I know I have a reputation. But I’m telling you … I’m not that guy anymore.”

“Keir—” I begin to protest, ready to tell him this has nothing to do with him and everything to do with a broken heart in a state of disrepair, but he cuts me off.

“I know your family,” he says as he drags his thumb along his lower lip. “I know how you feel pressured to be the person they want you to be. I know you have a wild side and you try to hide it.” He smirks. “You’re basically the female version of me. I’m telling you, give this a chance. You won’t regret it. I promise you that.”

I fold my arms casually and take a step back. I need to create distance, give him a nonverbal sign that I won’t change my stance on this.

He can claim he’s changed all he wants.

But men like him never change.

“And I’m telling you, Keir,” I say, “that I don’t want to go on a date with you.”

As much as it pains me, I’m going to have to find someone else for this epic one-night stand.

And it’s too bad.

Keir would’ve rocked my world then flipped it on its axis, I’m sure of it.

Walking toward the door to show him out, I turn back only to see he hasn’t moved. He’s planted in the middle of my apartment, a hint of determination in his eyes as he studies me.

“I’m not changing my mind,” I say. “You can stand there staring me down all you want with those pretty boy eyes, but my answer will still be no.”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he exhales. I think about all the women who’ve come before me, how many of them he’s screwed over. I even think he was engaged once … to one of the Randall heiresses. Their engagement ended in scandal and flames, that much I know.

He might be good in bed, but he’s not a good person.

I refuse to let that heavy sapphire gaze convince me otherwise.

“Goodnight, Keir.” I open the door, pulling it wide and standing back.

He leaves.

But something tells me I haven’t seen the last of him.