Once we’ve both recovered from our backseat escapade—I pull an emergency tank top out of my purse, then insist on some belated seatbelt safety—Christian starts telling me about where he’s taking me.

“In case you haven’t guessed, we’re going to the Hamptons.”

“The Hamptons,” I repeat, tasting the richness of the word in my mouth.

Christian leans forward and opens a compartment tucked under the front seat to reveal a cooler full of ice. Nestled in the center is a bottle of champagne. From somewhere else he produces a corkscrew and opens the bottle. Two champagne glasses emerge from a second compartment located under the passenger seat. While he pours out the liquid bubbly, his hand not wavering at all despite the movement of the car, he continues.

“My father originally bought the cottage as a family vacation home, and growing up we spent the summers there. Some weekends in the fall, too. My mother—” He swallows thickly and keeps his gaze focused on the champagne glasses as he passes one over to me. “My mother loved it there. After they divorced, he wanted to sell it, but I convinced him to hold on to the property. I bought it from him when I got full access to my trust fund. That was the best thing about turning twenty-five.”

“The best thing? Not the incredible party I’m sure you had?”

He flicks his eyes over to me, a little smile playing on his lips. “When I turned twenty-five, I had the same party I always have. Dinner at the Swan. Drinks. Dancing. Women.”

Something in his tone tells me it’s not the party he wanted. I don’t quite understand it, because the last time I saw Christian at the Swan, he was in his element.

“Where did you want to be instead?”

He lets out a breath that’s not quite a sigh. “Elsewhere.”

“Tell me.” I take a sip of the champagne, its bubbly sweetness sparkling on my tongue. “Where?”

Christian sips at his own champagne, then turns to look at me, his chin lifted. “That was a tough birthday.”

My cheeks flame red as I remember—Christian’s brother. How the fuck could I have forgotten that little detail? “Oh, my God,” I say, slapping a hand to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I—”

“It’s all right,” Christian says quickly, but I see a flash of something I can’t identify in his eyes. It doesn’t look like grief. That’s all I know, and then it’s gone. “I always held the party at the Swan because…” His mouth works. When he speaks again, something is different about his voice. “My brother was always the quiet one, but I think he liked the parties we would throw together.” A pinprick of icy unease forms on the back of my neck. Why? Something rings false.

Then again, what the hell do I know? The entire point of this vacation, if Christian’s text is to be believed, is to give me a chance to see the reality of his life. It makes perfect sense, after all—the Swan isn’t exactly the kind of place to get to know someone’s deep secrets, and there’s not much more to my life than Carolyn’s apartment at the moment.

I dismiss the feeling. Christian clears his throat. The silence has gone on for too long.

I give him a comforting smile and reach across to take his hand in mine. “No need to talk about that if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to.” Suddenly his face is open, his eyes almost pleading, and yet his tone is forceful. He’s not the kind of guy to cede control of a situation. “I want you to know everything there is to know about me.”

“I want that, too,” I say carefully. The conversation has taken an intense turn, and Christian’s eyes, crystal blue in the filtered light coming through the Town Car’s windows, bore into mine.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

There’s a strange energy crackling between us, and it makes me both intrigued and slightly uncomfortable at the same time. I’ve never seen this side of him.

Then the moment fades, and Christian shakes his head, a little, sexy half-smile on his face.

“I don’t mean to freak you out,” he says finally, and I let out a little laugh of relief.

“Jesus Christ, I hope not,” I say, and then it’s his turn to laugh. It’s a good thing we’re going to spend the weekend getting comfortable before we dive into anything serious.

It’s already serious, says the voice in the back of my mind. I can’t argue.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” I say, giving him a coy smile.

“Any special places you want to tell me about?”

“Not a cottage in the Hamptons, that’s for sure.”

He laughs, not unkindly. “Where did you vacation?”

“Anywhere,” I say. “Everywhere. My parents were camper people.”

“Camper people?” Christian looks mildly confused.

“They liked to haul a pop-up camper behind their car. That’s where we’d stay when we went on vacation.”

“Oh,” says Christian thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’m the camper type.”

“No?”

“That doesn’t seem like it would be…sturdy.”

“They’re plenty sturdy.”

“Not for the kinds of things I’d like to do to you on vacation.”

I suck in my breath, heat rising again between my legs, and then I bite down on my bottom lip. “Not fair.”

“It’s the truth.”

In front of us, the partition lowers. Without taking his eyes off the road, Louis calls back to Christian. “We’re here, Mr. Pierce. Should I drop you off in front?”

“Great.”

I look out the window. The winding drive we’re on is large enough, and long enough, to be an actual road, which is what I assumed we were traveling on until this moment. Then Louis pulls the car around a circular drive in front of an honest-to-God mansion.

My mouth drops open. I should have expected this, but I was so caught up in our…activities…and then our conversation that I didn’t bother to ask how big this place was. I look back at Christian, who is smiling, his eyes shining with pride and anticipation.

“The cottage,” he says.

Sure, I think, too excited to admit out loud. This is a cottage, and I’m a princess!