Early Saturday morning, Cassie was picked up by a limo and brought to her parents’ house to help Elísa get ready for her big day. Patrick would be arriving at the ceremony later, but waking up next to him in cool, white sheets with the ocean lapping silently outside their windows had made her not want to get out of bed. She’d cuddled close to him, tracing the lines on his face until he’d squinted one eye open.

“Creeper,” he’d mumbled over a kiss. Groaning, she’d heaved herself out of bed and into the shower, where’d she’d tried to wade through her thoughts.

Asking him yesterday about traveling to Cuba and Spain had been a test. A careful analysis to see his reaction. He hadn’t shot it down, but he hadn’t enthusiastically replied either. She didn’t know what to think, unsure what she wanted, or what the future held. It was odd to notice though that she hadn’t been fighting with herself since she’d been back here, hadn’t been struggling with which Cassie to be. Instead she was simply herself: lawyer, sister, daughter…girlfriend. No one had asked her any questions, the pressure she was usually under lessened with Patrick by her side.

It was only a show, but was it? Patrick had always been good at playing games, from his seduction of her through pretending to be her boyfriend. But it all felt too real to be fake, from the way he’d looked at her at her parents’ house to the way he’d surprised her yesterday morning.

When she’d stepped into those beautiful new shoes, her heart pounded at the feel of them sliding on. The bottoms were a bit slippery—she was going to hate scuffing up that red on the concrete, but it was the only way to break in a new pair. Thank God she had solid calf muscles because these babies were seriously high. Walking in them, she felt like a tightrope walker and a princess at the same time.

The same way she’d felt yesterday morning in bed.

The memory of his hand around her throat had sent shivers pinwheeling down her spine. He’d been completely in control, and she’d felt even more bound to him than if he were inside her.

She craved the feeling now, of being bonded like that. But thinking about a future with him was fruitless. After all, she was supposed to be taking stock. Figuring out what she wanted. If she wanted kids, or if she was going to marry her career. Patrick didn’t want children, but if she somehow decided she did, where did that leave her on the odd chance that he wanted to pursue more than this short-term thing?

It left her needing to figure out what the hell she wanted. And to get her ass downstairs.

Her morning was full of maid-of-honor duties—getting her sister ready, consoling her tearful mother, making sure all the bridesmaids were set. Dressed in variations of black lace and carrying bouquets of vibrant red roses, they went one by one down the aisle. Cassie found Patrick immediately in the back row, looking like royalty in a sharp black tux and red pocket square.

The ceremony went off without a hitch, and Cassie got tearful over the I do’s. She remained her sister’s shadow afterward, tucking up her bustle and organizing the receiving line. Once Elísa and Hector were off to take pictures and the guests were traveling to the reception site, she and Patrick finally had a few moments alone together. He kissed up her neck as soon as they were in the rental car.

“You look incredible,” he breathed.

Cassie closed her eyes as his hand strayed across the gearshift to where the lace of her dress played against her cleavage. “Gonna get me all messed up,” she protested, but it was a weak objection. She wanted him to mess her up, and get her wild and unkempt the way he always did.

“Later,” he said, then broke off and stared at her with a deep, steadying breath. “Later.”

The reception was at a club in Coral Gables with a Spanish tile roof and candelabras everywhere. A band played before a shining dance floor, the exposed beams were draped with brilliant red fabric, and black lace runners lined all the tables. Patrick stayed close by Cassie’s side, smiling and clapping when the newlyweds were introduced.

“They look happy,” Patrick said.

“They are,” she replied, watching her sister on the dance floor.

“And you? Are you happy?”

She looked at him, got caught up in those eyes that glittered with sinful mischief and felt like a safe haven all at once. “I am. Right now.”

With you.

The first dance ended, and the band invited everyone onto the dance floor. Annalisa ran up to Patrick and asked him to dance. Cassie told them to go on, and Patrick accepted the invitation, looking carefree and relaxed as he twirled her niece around. Cassie waited for that moment, for her biological clock to finally kick into action as she watched the man she…yes, she had to admit it now—loved—dance with a child.

It didn’t.

The band started up a quick reggaeton dance—the rhythm a mix of Jamaican reggae, merengue, salsa and house beats. Annalisa ran back to her parents, and Patrick strolled over to Cassie and held out a hand.

“Shall we?”

A mess of emotions ran through her, but she wanted to feel this with him, one more time. He led her to the floor, and they easily found the beat, picking up a quick salsa. With one hand tight on her hip, his eyes stayed on her the way they always did—careful, hungry and paying attention.

“I’d say we’re stealing your sister’s thunder, if you hadn’t been stealing it already,” he said.

“How am I doing that?”

Patrick slid his hand down her leg, pulling her against him. “Don’t you know? You’re the most beautiful woman here.”

Melting was the only way to describe what he was doing to her, and yet he was setting her on fire at the same time.

“And I was lying when I said I’d wanted you since we met,” he said.

Cassie tensed, ready for him to say this had been a ruse and to blow it all apart, but he shook his head.

“It was more than just wanting you. You tested my mettle. Challenged me in a way no woman ever had. We’ve both got walls up, but you knocked mine down. You made me remember what it was like to care again. And everything I’ve learned about you since then has only made me care about you more.”

Her breath got stuck in her throat, along with her heart. “I was wrong when I said I didn’t like you,” she said. “You’re kind of perfect for me.”

He smiled that dazzling smile before pushing her back out and spinning her around, and the truth of what she’d said hit home. Patrick wasn’t the masked playboy she’d imagined. She knew the man behind that wealthy exterior now, knew what troubled him and what made his eyes blaze with hunger. He was passionate and intelligent. Commanding and sexual, he was strong enough to fight her and comfort her, to defile her without losing respect. And he’d made her comfortable with her desires, erasing the guilt and shame she’d felt about them.

Suddenly, she wanted to make time stop, or undo that rule she’d made. To go tell herself not to make that awful devil’s bargain, because she’d been wrong, so wrong about everything, and she didn’t want admitting emotions to be her way out. She wanted it to be their beginning.

The song came to an end, and he rubbed his nose along hers—a soft, sweet move.

“You’re kind of perfect for me too,” he said.

And in that moment, everything became clear.

She didn’t want kids, and that was okay. She was all right with who she was—a powerhouse attorney. A biracial woman who was a lady in la calle and a freak in la cama. And she wanted to be that person with him. He didn’t want kids either, and she knew he didn’t get involved, but they were already involved, weren’t they? He cared about her, and that was most definitely an emotion. Maybe he was feeling the same things she was.

Maybe this didn’t have to end.

Her mother called out for her. Cassie glanced over her shoulder, then back at Patrick. “Can we talk more later?”

“Of course.”

The party went late into the evening, and Cassie allowed herself to celebrate, skipping a cocktail but indulging in the medianoche sandwiches and several of those guava and cream cheese pastelitos she’d been craving. Bring on the calories—she’d dance until her feet throbbed to compensate. Elísa had skipped out on the customary Money Dance, because no way was she letting anything get pinned to her gown, but had kept the traditional Cuban wedding cake—a coconut tres leches flavor filled with ribbons on the bottom layer, one of which was attached to a ring. It was the equivalent of the bouquet toss, and Cassie conveniently busied herself with seeing out a few older family members when all the single ladies were called the dance floor.

She didn’t want to risk not being the one to find the ribbon with the ring, because for the first time, she wanted it to be her.

When the last guests had finally left and the bride and groom were on their way, Patrick ushered Cassie into the car. She dozed on the drive back to South Beach and was out of it as they made their way through the lobby. She slapped her cheeks to wake herself up in the elevator, wanting to be alert enough to talk to him about the future. Thinking some ice water would help, she grabbed the bucket, insisting she was fine to go fill it when Patrick protested. She needed a minute alone to compile her thoughts.

The full bucket in one hand, Cassie used her key card to buzz the door back open with the other, but everything was dark when she stepped inside.

“Patrick?”

No answer. Was she in the wrong room? No, the key card wouldn’t have let her in. She took a step farther in inside. “Patrick? Are you here?”

All of the sudden, Cassie was violently slammed against the wall.

The bucket clattered to the floor. Fear shot through her. Her heartbeat went on overdrive as an arm locked across her back, forcing her still as she tried to breathe. She started to yell, but a hand clamped over her mouth.

“Oh, you’re a tough little bitch aren’t you.” A deadly calm chuckle sounded in her ear. “Go ahead. Try to fight me off. But you’re not gonna win.”