Charlie went down to tea on her own.

Simon’s event with the groom for the men was just across the hall from hers, so it would have made sense for them to go down together.

She didn’t want to walk down with him though.

She felt depressed, and if she’d been in any other situation, she would have hibernated for the rest of the day.

She couldn’t however. The wedding weekend was just beginning, and the only way she could get out of it now was to feign illness. That would be weak and cowardly, so she was going to get through this.

Her life didn’t revolve around Simon Shae. She had worthwhile work to do and amazing friends, and she was going to enjoy this wedding.

With or without him.

She’d changed into a cute, little red dress with a thin cashmere cardigan sweater, and she felt pretty and stylish as she stepped off the elevator. The first thing she saw was Hannah and Madison, waiting for her.

They were both grinning, so she hugged them, and they walked down the hall and into the small event room—beautifully designed with a crystal chandelier and mahogany bar, where women were gathering for the tea party.

The next half hour was chaotic—as Charlie greeted and caught up with about two dozen women she’d known from school. About half of them she didn’t really even like—they were selfish and spoiled and acted like they were the center of the universe—but they were all old “friends” from the expensive prep school she’d attended, and she had to summon her energy and her social skills to interact with them effectively.

Fortunately, Hannah and Madison stayed with her the whole time. It was easier to keep on top of snarky, belittling comments when you had your best friends to combat them with you.

For an hour, they ran the gauntlet of cattiness and social competition until finally Charlie was ready to take a break. She filled her plate with extra strawberries and petit fours, got a fresh glass of champagne, and found a corner table away from the bride and most of the other women.

Hannah and Madison joined her shortly.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asked, studying Charlie with concern.

“Of course! I’m just out of practice with all that.” Charlie waved in the general direction of the other women. “And I’m exhausted.”

“Me too,” Madison admitted, taking the last swallow from her teacup and then signaling for a server to come over with the tray of champagne flutes. “It’s been so long since I’ve been part of that world that I forgot what school was like. I like my life now a lot better.”

“Me too,” Charlie said. “You know, some of them get together almost every week for lunch and gossip. Can you imagine?” She wasn’t entirely surprised that some women her age weren’t ready to give up the dynamics of their school years, but she couldn’t imagine craving the backbiting and outmaneuvering. Life was hard enough already—just dealing with the pressures and disappointments of living in this world. Why would someone seek out more drama?

Hannah was still giving her a sharp look. “But what’s really the matter, Charlie?”

“Nothing.” She’d widened her eyes in the hopes of brushing off the question, but it was hopeless to try to hide something from her friends. After a moment, she sighed. “I’ve run into a few roadblocks with Simon.”

“What happened?”

“He believes it would be indecent to be with me.”

“He told you that?” Madison asked, her eyebrows very high. “Straight out?”

“Straight out.”

“Had you... had you made a move on him?” Hannah asked.

Charlie chuckled, just slightly bitter. “No. Nothing quite so humiliating. He was worried about people thinking we were a couple, since we came together. And so that led to how completely inappropriate it would be for him ever to be with me.” She shook her head. “I’m trying not to give up, but it feels kind of hopeless right now. He just... He recoils from me.”

They were silent for a moment as they thoughtfully munched on their sweets.

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” Hannah said at last.

“How exactly could it be good?”

“Well, he recoils like that because he has to be strict with himself. If he wasn’t tempted, he wouldn’t need to react so dramatically. Right?”

Charlie couldn’t help but feel a little flicker of hope. “You think so?”

“Did he act like he might have been tempted?” Hannah asked.

Charlie made a face. “He acted like I was radioactive and his only choice was to flee.”

With a sly grin, Hannah said, “There. See? He’s definitely tempted.”

Madison shook her head with a half smile. “I hate to encourage flights of fancy, but there might be something to that. Usually, if a guy isn’t making a move, I’d say he’s hopeless and just move on. But Simon has some real reason to be uncomfortable with this. He was a friend of your dad’s. He knew you when you were a teenager. He was appointed your trustee. He’d naturally feel awkward and kind of guilty, and those are perfectly legitimate reasons why he’d want to hold back. I say don’t give up yet.”

Charlie nodded, her cheeks flushing warmly as she felt a renewed sense of excitement and hope. Her friends might be right. Maybe it wasn’t completely hopeless.

Maybe Simon was just acting like she was radioactive because he wanted her so much and didn’t think he was allowed to.

He’d said before he left her room earlier that sometimes what people wanted was wrong.

She’d thought he was talking about her, but maybe he’d been talking about himself.

It wasn’t a sure thing, but it was possible.

It was at least a glimmer of hope.

“Okay,” she said at last. “I’m not giving up.” After a pause, she added, “Anyway, I’m not the only one who has a mission here this weekend. How are things going with both of you?”

She focused on the progress that Hannah and Madison were making with their dates, and she felt a lot more like herself.

***

AFTER ANOTHER HALF hour, the tea party seemed to be breaking up, and Charlie was ready to escape from the pretty little room filled with stylish, well-coifed women. She was about to suggest that she, Hannah, and Madison make a move to leave when Polly, the beautiful redheaded bride, came over with a huge smile to where they were sitting.

Charlie sighed in resignation at being trapped this way.

Polly had been her biggest competition all through school. Like Charlie, she was outgoing, redhaired, and interested in the social sciences, so they’d often been up for the same guys or awards or opportunities. They were pretty well matched, so neither one of them always won or lost.

Charlie liked Polly as well as she liked any of her former schoolmates except Hannah and Madison, but it always felt like a chore talking to her.

Polly’s smile was gloating, and Charlie wasn’t surprised.

Polly had snared a great guy—young, handsome, and moving up in the political world.

While Charlie couldn’t even get the man she wanted to stay in the same room as her.

“So tell me about your date, Charlie,” Polly said after a few minutes of gushing over the wedding. “Quite the dark horse, I’d say.”

Charlie sighed and tried to answer politely without giving out any real information. She had to spend ten minutes avoiding Polly’s nosy interrogation, but finally escaped by claiming to need to find a restroom. She slipped out of the stuffy room, relieved when the hall was cooler and quieter and she could take a full breath.

The middle of the floor was opened to an ornate staircase, but on the opposite side of the stairs her eyes landed on a man standing by himself, leaning against the wall.

Simon.

His eyes were closed, and his posture was guarded, and he wasn’t aware of her presence.

He’d obviously left the room for the groom’s event to get a breath of fresh air the way she had.

She should probably leave him alone, but he looked strangely lonely, vulnerable, standing by himself the way he was.

He didn’t have best friends here the way she had. He didn’t have anyone but her.

She walked over to where he was leaning against the wall. “Hey,” she said softly.

He jerked and opened his eyes, but he didn’t pull away from her the way she was half-afraid he might. “Hi,” he breathed.

She moved over to lean against the wall beside him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?” His dark eyes searched her face.

“Yeah. I’m fine. It was getting hot in there, and I just don’t have the energy I used to have to walk the social gauntlet.”

“You used to like it, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I thought I did. I mean, I always liked to... to make a showing socially. I like to get ahead and hold my ground and respond appropriately to every new drama that came down. But now...” She’d been staring at the door to the event room she’d just left, where she could hear female voices wafting out.

“Now what?”

“I just feel... too old and tired for that.”

He gave a soft huff of amusement. “You’re twenty-five.”

“I know. I don’t know why I feel old, but I do.”

“Wait until you’re forty.”

With a smile, she reached over to put her hand on his forearm. Just a light, companionable squeeze. He didn’t pull away. “I know. You’ll always be older than me and make me feel like my old-feelings don’t matter.”

His tone surprised her when he responded, sounding suddenly serious. “I didn’t mean to make you think they don’t matter. I know how that feels. Like you’ve suddenly pulled away from your old life, and you’re not even sure how it happened. It’s disorienting. But natural, I think.”

Her eyes lingered on the chiseled lines of his face. “What life did you pull away from?”

“You think I’ve always been an antisocial old grouch?”

“Well... yeah.”

He gave another one of those amused huffs. “Maybe I have been. But I wasn’t always this bad.”

“What were you like in school?”

He met her eyes briefly, a strange sort of hesitance in his expression. “I was... quiet. I worked hard. I wasn’t popular.” After a pause, he added, “I went to a school a lot like yours, but I was on scholarship.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t known this. Not even this much about him.

“The others made sure I knew I didn’t belong.”

She could see it. See it so clearly. And a little part of herself wondered if she would have treated him the same way. She moved her hand slightly so it was touching his. They were still standing side-by-side, leaning against the wall. At the warm feel of his skin, she unthinkingly twisted her fingers so she could twine them in his.

He didn’t pull his hand away.

“Do you still feel like an outsider?” she asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. Then, “Yes. I always have. Like I’ve always been on the outskirts, looking in on everything I want and can never have.”

She swallowed hard, amazed he’d shared something so intimate with her.

“Why have you always felt like you couldn’t have it?” she asked softy.

He gave a small shrug. “Growing up, I never had the money or background that the kids around me had. I could never be like them, be one of them. I learned to... not care.”

“That’s why you’re so standoffish with everyone, I guess.”

“I suppose.” He sighed. “Your father was ten years older than me, but he was one of the few people who ever tried to be a friend to me. I was just working for him, but he treated me like an equal, like a real person. I’d gotten really good at being alone. I thought I wasn’t missing anything. He showed me I was wrong.”

Charlie’s eyes burned as she thought about her dad. “He was a... really good man.”

“He was a lot like you.” Simon stared ahead of him for a minute. “I miss him.”

“I miss him too.”

They were silent for a moment, and Charlie thought about how Simon must feel, having been friends with her father and now... something else with her. No wonder he was uncomfortable. No wonder he kept his distance.

She didn’t blame him.

Maybe she was the one who was trying to force things to a crisis when they were better off the way they were.

But she’d had such a strong feeling last year, watching Simon in the kitchen in the middle of the night. She’d known then what she knew now.

There wasn’t another man on earth that she wanted more than Simon.

“I feel like an outsider sometimes too,” she admitted at last. “I think everyone does. It’s part of the human experience.”

“Maybe. But there are varying degrees. What about Hannah and Madison?”

“What about them?”

“How can you feel like an outsider when you have such good friends?”

“It’s not really about friends. It’s about... experiences in life. You can still feel alone a lot, even when you have good friends.”

“I know you can. But you’re not an outsider, Charlie. Everyone loves you.”

“No, they don’t.” She was still holding his hand, thrilling at the fact that he wasn’t pulling his away.

“Yes, they do.” There was a roughness to his tone that made her look over at his face, but his eyes were staring at an empty place in the air.

“Then why do I feel like I’m alone,” she asked softly. “Like I’ve somehow gone too far and left everyone else behind?”

“You haven’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m right here. You haven’t left me behind.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for just a moment she saw a smolder of feeling in his eyes—so different from his normal endless stoicism. She felt herself crumple strangely, and she reached over to wrap her arms around his neck, instinctively trying to pull him close.

He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Very tight. It felt like he was holding on to her with all his strength.

And she wanted it. She wanted it desperately.

They stood in the hallway, hugging for more than a minute. Then voices sounded from very close to them, as men started to leave the room just beside him as the event broke up, and Simon pulled away abruptly.

“Sorry about that,” he said gruffly, not meeting her eyes.

She was torn between tumultuous excitement and drooping disappointment, and the only way she could deal with it was to be tart. “What’s to be sorry for? Normal people can hug without apologizing.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but she couldn’t make out the words.

She shook her head at him. “Of course, if you’re a growling bear like you, then maybe hugs aren’t exactly normal.”

His mouth tilted up just a little, and she knew that counted as a smile for him.

***

THEY HAD A FEW HOURS of free time after the afternoon events before the fancy rehearsal dinner. It wasn’t really a rehearsal dinner because everyone in the wedding was invited. It was a lavish, black-tie dinner, and Charlie normally would have been excited about it.

She liked to dress up, and she’d bought a new dress for the occasion—a fitted, sleeveless dress in dark red that broke past her knees into full, lush flounces. She loved it, and she thought she looked particularly sexy and appealing as she pinned her hair up in a pretty updo and added red lipstick.

Surely Simon couldn’t continue to think about her as a little girl. Not when she looked like this.

She remembered that moment of connection they’d shared a few hours ago—the tension and passion in his body as he’d hugged her so tightly—and she felt a renewed sense of hope.

She wasn’t delusional. He did feel something for her. Her friends might be right, and he was just afraid it was wrong.

She could understand that. It wasn’t an easy transition to make. But she was sure it was worth it.

She needed to show him that it wasn’t wrong. In fact, it was exactly right.

She’d spent too many years trying to see beneath the surface of guys and only finding things that disappointed her.

It was harder to see under the surface of Simon than anyone else, but she was sure it was worth the effort.

She wasn’t going to be disappointed in him.

She was patting down a few flyaways in her hair when she heard a knock on her door. Simon. They’d agreed to go down to dinner together, and it was precisely the time they’d agreed to.

Simon was always on time.

When she opened the door, her heart gave a ridiculous leap at the sight of him in his tuxedo. He was like one of those roughly elegant movie stars of the forties—far sexier than any conventionally handsome young man, far deeper in every way.

He stared at her for a long time, not moving and not speaking.

“What?” she demanded after a minute. She glanced down at herself. “It might be a little over the top, but when else could I wear a dress like this?”

She saw him swallow, and his eyes lifted to her face again.

“Simon?” she prompted.

“You look great,” he said at last, a lot of gravel in his voice.

It wasn’t high praise, but he seemed to mean it, so she smiled at him. “Thanks. You ready to be charming?”

“If you have delusions about my ever being charming, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Well, then are you ready to be basically polite and not scowl at everyone you meet?”

He gave her the slightest of smiles. “I guess I could manage that.”

She smiled back, taking his arm as they walked toward the elevator. As they were riding down, she noticed that his eyes kept slipping lower than her face so often it was impossible not to notice.

Her cheeks warmed as she realized he was checking out her neckline.

Her dress was sleeveless, and it kept slipping low on the curve of her breasts, offering quite a bit of cleavage to view.

Simon was definitely noticing.

He wasn’t immune to her, no matter what he tried to pretend.

She wasn’t wrong about them.

She just wasn’t.

The dinner was taking place in the large ornate ballroom, and she smiled as she entered. No matter how annoying Polly could be, she did have really good taste. The ballroom was set up in banquet style with beautiful sculpted centerpieces of white roses and elegant china and stemware. Three crystal chandeliers sparkled in the low light, and a string quartet offered pleasant accompaniment to the chatter.

It felt like everyone was staring as they entered the room. Simon ran his finger under his collar, like it was suddenly too tight.

“Don’t even think about making an escape,” she murmured, clinging to his arm as she leaned over to speak near his ear.

“Everyone is staring.”

“Not everyone. And it’s probably just because I’m so gorgeous.” She made her voice light and teasing in an attempt to ease his discomfort. “No one is looking at you.”

“They’re wondering what I’m doing with you.”

She had to admit there might be some of that in the curious expressions, but most of the people present probably had no idea who Simon even was. It wasn’t like he was a well-known personage. They wouldn’t know he’d been the trustee to her inheritance. They wouldn’t think anything was strange or inappropriate about his being with her.

He was fifteen years older than her, but in their social circles, they saw a lot bigger age difference than that.

She was just a woman with a man.

They didn’t have to be anything else.

They found their assigned seats, and Charlie was disappointed that Madison and Hannah were all the way across the room. She waved to them before she let Simon pull her chair out for her.

Simon was stewing. She could see it in his face. He was afraid people were thinking they were a couple.

And she had no idea what she could possibly do to change that.

They chatted with people at their table, most of whom were friends of the groom. So none of them knew Charlie from before, and every one of them assumed she and Simon were together.

Charlie could see it bothered him every time someone made a comment that implied they were romantically involved, even the most casual kind of comments. He wasn’t correcting them, but she could see he was holding himself back.

He didn’t want to hurt her feelings again, but he also didn’t want anyone to think he was with her that way.

As the evening progressed, he grew more and more frustrated about it. She could see the tension on his face.

When dessert was finally served, the dinner broke up, and people started mingling throughout the ballroom. Charlie took Simon’s arm and led him across the room, trying to reach Hannah and Madison and their dates so they could have some natural conversation and hopefully Simon would relax.

Unfortunately, they were waylaid by Polly before they could.

“Finally,” Polly said with a wide, white smile. “I finally get to talk to your mysterious escort.”

Charlie’s smile was strained, and she could feel Simon’s body stiffen beside her. “This is Simon Shae.”

“Simon,” Polly gushed with that same overly bright smile. “Tell me all about yourself. Were you really friends with Charlie’s parents? And how on earth did you manage to change your relationship so naughtily?”

Charlie’s spine stiffened. There was no excuse for that kind of question. Polly was being catty on purpose and evidently thought she could get away with it this weekend because she was the bride. Charlie gave her a cool look, but her voice was light and pleasant as she said, “What kind of question is that? Instead of prying into other people’s business, you might want to pay attention to your own. Jim looks like he might have had too much to drink.”

Polly looked over to where her husband-to-be was laughing uproariously with a couple of pretty, very young women, and with a snarl Polly turned and walked away.

Charlie let out a breath. “Sorry about that. She was always that way, I guess, but it seems to bother me a lot more now than it did before. I guess I’m just not used to it anymore.”

Simon didn’t answer. He was standing stiffly, staring blindly in front of him.

“Simon?” she prompted, holding on to the lapel of his jacket.

He took a step back from her.

“Simon?” she repeated, more impatiently this time. “You’re not going to let what she said bother you, are you? She’s just kind of a bitch like that.”

He still didn’t answer.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Her voice was soft but sharp. She reached up to turn his face so he was focused on her. “Don’t you dare let her bother you.”

“It’s not her,” he said at last.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s everyone. Everyone thinks we’re together.”

“So?” Her heart was racing now, and she knew something important was going to be said, was going to happen. And she heard herself saying something she never thought she’d say. “Who cares what anyone else thinks? We can be together if we want.”

He took a clumsy step back. “But we’re not together.”

“I know that. I’m just saying we could be. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. You’re... you’re...”

“I’m what?” she snapped, her voice still soft so no one else could overhear them. “I’m not a child. I’m not anywhere close to a child. And if you dare to treat me like a child, then we’re going to have a real problem.”

“I wasn’t going to say you’re a child.” His voice was gravelly and just as soft as hers was.

“Then what?” she demanded. “What exactly is your problem about strangers assuming we might be together? What’s so wrong about that?”

“What’s wrong with it? What do you think is wrong with it? This isn’t a game, Charlie. It’s not a game. Why the hell would you even want someone to think something so... wrong?”

She stared at him for a moment, bombarded with a wave of grief and embarrassment and guilt.

Guilt.

Because he had suddenly made her feel wrong for wanting what she’d wanted.

She didn’t know what to say.

“Charlie,” he murmured thickly, as if he’d read something in her face. “Can we just—”

“Just what?” she asked sharply. “Drop it? Is that what you want to do?”

For a moment there was a struggle on his face between divergent emotions. She could see the conflict, and then she saw what came out on top.

He controlled his expression. “Yes,” he said. “I’d like to drop it.”

His return to his stoic restraint hurt—the fact that he could rein in whatever he was feeling so easily when all her emotions were welling up to the surface. “Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to drop it. When you act like there’s something wrong with just the hypothetical idea of us being together, it makes me feel...”

His eyes had narrowed, and his hands were fisted at his sides, like he was forcing them to stay in place. “Feel what?”

“Feel like you’re only seeing a small part of me. The fact that I was my parents’ daughter. That I was young when we first met. It makes me feel like all those guys I date who are only seeing my money—not the whole me, not the real me. You’re only seeing part of me too, and it hurts just as much. I’m not young now. I’m an adult. A woman. And you’re not seeing me that way.”

His control was breaking. His mouth twisted, and his eyes were strangely fierce. “Charlie, I can’t,” he rasped. “I can’t see you that way.”

She stared at him for a moment to see if he would add more to what he’d said, somehow make it better, make it less of a heartbreak.

But he didn’t. He stood in front of her, so tense he was almost shaking with it, and he said nothing at all.

She gave a jerky nod, accepting the truth of what he’d told her.

She’d been wrong last year on her twenty-fourth birthday, when she’d had the revelation about him caring about her for real. The real her. The whole her.

He did care about her, but he didn’t see all of her. He didn’t want all of her.

She couldn’t say anything.

Couldn’t even form a word.

She couldn’t do anything, but she also couldn’t stay here and try to have a conversation with him.

So she turned on her heel and walked away from him. She left the ballroom and made her way to the elevator, which she rode back up to her room.

Maybe her dreams had been hopeless from the beginning.

It wasn’t always the beast who needed to transform. Sometimes the princess did, but the beast just wouldn’t see that she had.