My heart pounds in my chest as the limo rolls to a stop in front of Wentworth Estate, parking on the circular driveway. It’s like something out of a storybook, or maybe even a painting. Lush green grass is perfectly trimmed on the huge manicured lawns. Three statues adorn the lawn, all of them classically-themed pieces, one of them of a man on a horse. If I remember what Mom told me, it’s supposed to be a Wentworth who won the Congressional Medal of Honor back in the Civil War or something like that.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, momentarily stunned.

“It’s nice,” Oliver agrees.

For some reason, his lack of gushing pisses me off. He sounds so casual about it all.

I’m still smarting over what he did. Pushing his body into me when he gave me the ring, intentionally pressing his big, hard . . . wait, what am I thinking? I shove the thought away, my face turning red.

Jesus, will it ever stop?

We’re not even a day in and I can already cut the sexual tension with a knife. My body is on hormonal overdrive, and I’ve still got six days, eighteen hours, and too many damn minutes before we’re done with this charade.

“You okay?” Oliver asks, seeing my trouble. “Did the plane ride upset your stomach or something?”

I wave off his concern, not letting on to my desire. I can’t let him know just how much he’s affecting me. “You can save the hero act for a bit. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”

The corner of his lips curls up into a grin and I grit my teeth. I got the last laugh on the plane, but somehow, I know he has the upper hand now.

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” I say. “Remember the back story?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oliver says, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t understand yet. Mom and Grandma both have minds like tape recorders and the cross-examining skills of a lawyer. They’ll tear him apart if he starts screwing around. “You only said it a million times on the way over here. We’ve been together a year. I walked into your coffee shop and told you that you were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Short and sweet.”

A flush comes to my chest. The words sound nice even though they’re fake. “Yeah, something like that. Don’t forget about you dropping to your knees when I said yes.”

Oliver’s smirk turns into a genuine smile, and I feel my flush deepen. “Don’t worry,” he says, giving me a reassuring, smoldering look. “They’re going to buy every word. We’ll see about going to my knees though.”

Somehow, his words don’t give me comfort. It’s like everything he says has layers of meaning, and no matter what, my mind wants to think of sex. Like him covering my body in kisses and being on his knees, his lips . . .

The door opens and the driver, an old man named Sam, stands ready for us. “The Wentworth Estate. Please watch your step on the gravel, Miss.”

I step out, relishing the cool breeze that blows in lightly from the east, caressing my soft flesh as I take in the scenery. It’s a beautiful day with sunny, clear skies, the large French Provincial mansion looming against the azure sky. If I weren’t so nervous, I’d be amazed.

“Don’t worry about your bags,” Sam says when Oli makes a move to grab them out of the back of the limo. “The house staff will get them and make sure they’re delivered to the proper bedroom.”

Oliver gives me a look. “The house staff?”

I just shrug. I knew John had money, but I’ve never cared enough to find out exactly how much. I was expecting a nice big house, not a damn castle with house staff. “I’m just rollin’ with it.”

“If you’ll come with me,” the driver says.

Sam leads us to the cobblestone walkway that leads to the huge double-door entry of the mansion. As we head up, Oliver places his hand on the small of my back. Warm currents begin to ripple out from his touch, and I squirm on the inside, flustered.

“What are you doing?” I whisper out of the side of my mouth, alarmed by what his touch is doing to me. How am I supposed to share a bedroom with this man for a whole week?

“Being your fiancé,” he whispers back, grinning at me. “Come on, Princess. Let’s meet the fam.”

He says it so sweetly that I almost wish it were true for a second. A part of me likes being on his strong arm, though I’d never admit it to him.

By the time we reach the double doors, my forehead is dotted in sweat. My heart is pounding in my chest like I just sprinted a half-mile or something. Truth be told, I'm overcome with sudden anxiety.

Too late to worry now, I realize as Sam puts his hand on the twin handles of the front door. I’m in too deep.

The large door springs open before the driver can turn the handles, and out steps my mother with a small barking dog, a fluffy white Pomeranian at her side. Sam springs out of the way, pretty spry for a guy his age, which is a good thing or else he’d get run over.

“Mindy, my darling!” My mother sings, stepping forward with her arms outstretched. The woman is practically dripping in diamonds, with a matching necklace, bracelet, and earring set over top of her white brocade dress that flows down her body all the way to her ankles. “It’s been so long!”

“Mom,” I say as we embrace. I smell her perfume, and it smells expensive as hell. “I’ve missed you.”

I pull back and feel tears forming in my eyes as I survey her. Her face looks different from when I last saw her. The wrinkles that had begun to show around her eyes are mysteriously gone, along with her forehead wrinkles. It’s a little weird, and I wonder if Mom’s just feeling youthful from love or if she had a little help from Botox.

“You’re lookin’ good. Not as good as me, but you’d do just fine in a singles bar on Ladies’ Night.”

My mother laughs. “Yeah, well, that’s in the past for me. You look good too, honey. I never could have worn a dress like that at your age.”

“Who’s this little lady?” I say, gesturing at the dog who’s running circles around our feet, barking and carrying on in an attempt to deflect attention away from my dress. I feel nervous enough feeling Oliver’s hand still on my lower back. I can’t decide if I want his hand higher . . . or lower.

“Oh, that’s Bertha,” Mom says with a dismissive wave of her hand, “a puppy John got me several months into our courtship. She’s a handful, but I can’t imagine this place without her.”

Weird name for a tiny little dog if you ask me, but hey. Mom turns her gaze on Oliver, her eyes widening as if noticing him for the first time. “Mindy, you never said your young man was this handsome. Why, you’re practically perfect!”

“He is,” I mutter, not quite sure what I’m agreeing with. I step away from Oliver, using hand gestures to complete the introductions. “Harold this is my mother, Mary Jo. Mom, this is Harold.”

Oliver grins, taking my mother's hand and gently kissing the back of it, his eyes twinkling. “It’s a pleasure, Ma’am. They say that a man can see his future wife when he looks at her mother . . . and I’m a lucky man.”

My mom looks at me approvingly, sounding slightly out of breath. “Ooh, Mindy, I like him.”

“Don’t be fooled,” I say under my breath before replying, “Thanks, Mom.”

Mom shakes her head, running her hand down the length of Oliver’s arm in admiration as if he’s a toy on display. “You must work out a lot, Harold. You’ll like the gym, I hope.”

“Oliver, please,” he says gently. When my mom looks at him in question, he chuckles. “I prefer to go by my middle name.”

She looks at me, her eyes accusing. “How come you never told me that?”

“I . . .” I’m at a loss for words when Oliver saves me.

“She’s always forgetting things,” Oliver cuts in. “She even forgot the day we first met and when I decided to honor my grandfather by going by my middle name.”

I turn a dark scowl on Oliver, trying to tell him to stop it with my eyes.

He grins at me and winks, but before I can reply, I hear a voice from the doorway. “Well I heard that you had your mother’s beauty, but that just doesn’t do it justice. It’s good to finally meet you, Mindy.”

A white-haired, distinguished-looking man steps through the doorway, dressed in a fine gray suit and tie, everything about him perfectly groomed.

“Honey! Mindy, this is John, my wonderful fiancé,” my mom gushes as John takes my hand and kisses it, his mustache prickling lightly on my skin. It tickles, and I have to smile a little as he steps back, clasping my hand in both of his and smiling.

“Nice to meet you, John,” I say politely.

“It’s a pleasure.” He turns to Oliver, sizing him up the way men do and looking impressed. “And is this Harold?”

“Oliver,” Oliver corrects as he offers his hand, and the two men shake in another one of those male measuring sticks, both looking like they passed the other’s test. “I recently decided to go by my middle name.”

“Well then,” John says, gesturing inside. “Come on in. Let me give you the ten-cent tour.”

My breath is taken away again as we step fully into the foyer. Gleaming marble floors, impossibly high ceilings, and a winding staircase make the entryway look like a grand entrance to heaven.

“Wow,” I breathe. “So which king did you rob to get all of this stuff?”

My mom clasps her hands together with pleasure. “It is like a palace, isn’t it? The first time I stepped inside, I felt like I’d had my Cinderella moment.”

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Oliver says, again sounding not as impressed as I thought he’d be.

“Everything is—” I start before Oliver pulls me to a stop, cutting off my words.

“It’s nearly as beautiful as my little Princess,” Oliver says, taking me by surprise when he pulls me close, and before I can do anything, he kisses me on the lips. His kiss is intense, powerful, and before I know, it I’m kissing him back, even as his hands pull me against his hard body. I feel a growing heat rising again between my thighs. I’m left breathless, chest heaving when he pulls away. I flash murder at him as he whispers in my ear, “Payback for your little stunt on the plane.”

I can hardly listen. My body is hot, and I know my nipples are tight and aching inside my dress. I’m probably poking through the thin bra I wore to show off the dress. My cheeks burn, and I’m so embarrassed to be turned on in front of my mom.

“You okay?” she asks me, amused. “Young love is so passionate.”

“I’m fine,” I stammer, pushing away and not wanting to. “He caught me off guard. And someone forgot we had garlic chicken on the plane. Tic-tac next time, honey?”

Oliver flashes his mocking smirk at me before giving Mom a raised eyebrow. “I always leave her breathless. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Your daughter’s too beautiful.”

John chuckles at that. “I’m liking you already.” He pulls out a cigar and inhales as he runs it under his nose before sticking it in the corner of his mouth. “Trust me, I’m so glad I can get these legally now. They’re a bad habit, but I allow myself one or two a week. Cuban, imported directly from Havana. Come, Oliver, let me get to know my eventual son-in-law.”

Oliver smiles. “Got any Cuban rum to go with that cigar?”

“How’s Jamaican? And do you like cars?” John asks, his eyes twinkling merrily.

Oliver laughs. “Of course I do. When I was a kid, I had all the best sports cars in my toy collection.”

John seems giddy like a schoolboy, and he claps Oliver on the shoulder, charmed already. “Come with me and I’ll show you my garage. I’m sure there’s something there you’d like. Let these ladies catch up.”

The two of them head off, Oliver giving me a wink. After they leave, Mom leads me through the mansion.

“Where is everyone?” I ask as we leave the foyer. “Where’s Roxy? And where’s this staff I’m hearing about?”

“It’s not all that,” Mom says with a shrug. “John sent the staff on duty to town together. I wanted to do something special for dinner. As for Roxy, she’s with your aunt out getting their dresses for the rehearsal dinner.”

“I can't wait to see them,” I tell Mom honestly. “It’s been too long.”

Mom shows me around the house, and as we do, I feel a question that’s been on my mind for a long time bubbling to the surface. Finally, I have to ask. “Mom?”

“Yes, honey?” Mom asks, stopping in front of the eighteenth-century German grandfather clock that she’s been going on about for a while. “What is it?”

“Mom . . . do you love him?”

She gives me a questioning look. “What do you mean, Mindy? Do I love John?”

“Yes,” I say, letting my fears out. “Most of the time you talk about him, it’s about his money. His things. His stuff. You come to the door looking like you’ve stepped out of an old Elizabeth Taylor movie or something . . . but what about John?”

Mom nods, looking at the bracelet on her arm, then chuckles. “If John lost it all tomorrow, if we had to hock these diamonds, if we were left with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the feelings we share . . . I’d still marry him. I love him, Mindy. It’s just hard for me to put my feelings about John into words, so I talk about his things instead. You don’t know how strange it is, telling my adult daughter about how I’m left feeling like a schoolgirl again, a . . . what’s the word Oliver used for you?”

“Princess,” I say automatically, and Mom laughs.

“Yeah, that’s how I feel. I’m fifty-four, and I feel like a princess,” Mom says, reassuring my fears. “So, what about Oliver? He seems to be very into you.”

“I . . . well,” I start, lost in thoughts over Oliver’s kiss. My lips still tingle and my body feels warm even at the memory, and I stammer for words. “He’s great.”

“Seems more than great to me. He seems like a catch,” Mom says, but before she can say anything, there’s a booming sound as the doors to the estate are thrown open and a voice I’ve long missed calls out.

“MOM! We’re home!”

Roxy. Oh my God, I’ve got to go back into performance mode. Roxy’s going to want to see Oliver, and he’s going to want to kiss me again, and my body . . . I’m babbling in my head and I can’t stop it.

“Mindy?” Mom says, shaking me back to the moment. “Hey, you okay? You looked pale there for a second. Was it the airline food?”

“No . . . no, I’m fine, Mom,” I lie, wishing it were just the airline food. Fine? I’m not fine, and now I have to deal with Roxy and Grandma.

Shit.