I ignored him all day. When he asked if I wanted to get lunch, I merely shrugged. I couldn’t bring myself to conjure words that didn’t include colorful language, and I knew that once I spoke, I’d start to cry, which was something I did not want to do in the office. The sight of Camryn there, her comment about the wedding dress, the long meeting between her, Rowan, and Alistair about the contract . . . it was too much.

The entire time they were locked in that office, I had an incessant burning feeling in my esophagus. Around three thirty, when he was on a call with a factory, I scribbled a note that read: “Good luck and congratulations. I’m finished with the job, so you won’t have to pick me up for work tomorrow,” and then I walked out of the building and climbed into the Uber with tears in my eyes. I stopped by the art gallery and signed off on the papers for Freddie. It was all a blur. I was the worst person he could have sent to sign those papers because I could’ve sold his soul to the devil and not known it.

It was five o’clock by the time I took another Uber home, still in a daze. When I reached my house, the for sale sign, which had been there for days, made me cry harder, and lastly, the sight of the beat-up old truck in my driveway made me cry even more. I wiped my face as I reached Rowan, who was standing by the front door with his hands in his pockets.

“I drove it over myself. I wanted to make sure . . .” He stopped talking, his brows pinching when he took in my state. He ran down the steps and reached me. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head, swallowing past the large lump in my throat. Tears swarmed again. I shook my head once more and blinked. “God. I think you were right. I really am afraid of change.”

My words came out whispered and horse, and when he wrapped his arms around me, I started crying into his shirt. “Oh, Tessa,” he said, running his fingers through my hair soothingly, which only made me cry harder. He held me tighter, as if he were afraid of letting me go. Once I calmed down, he put his lips to my forehead and told me to open the door so we could go inside.

“I have to go get my car,” he said. “I left it parked at the shop.”

“I’ll take you.”

“No.” He walked into the kitchen and left me standing in the foyer. I followed him when I heard the cabinets open and close, open and close. “You don’t have tea?”

“I hate tea.”

“Well, I’m going to go get you some tea. You should go upstairs and draw a bath. It’ll help you calm down.”

“I don’t need to calm down.” Tears sprung to my eyes again. God, I was being insane. “What is wrong with me?”

“Change is wrong with you.” He gave me a small, lopsided smile. I covered my face and cried into my hands. I’d miss his smile so much.

“I don’t want you to marry her,” I said.

“That’s what this is about?”

I nodded as I wiped my tears and sniffled. “Just . . . everything, but that’s part of it. I don’t want you to marry her. Not her.”

“Why not?” He walked over, searching my eyes as he waited for me to speak.

For a moment, I wondered how much of what I wanted to say would change his mind. I wondered how much weight my thoughts had at all. Could I change his mind? Would he let me? Would he consider asking me instead of her? Probably not. Maybe it was me. Maybe he didn’t want to marry me at all, even under fake circumstances. I thought about Celia and her warning. I’d be stuck here forever. My heart stopped for a moment as I considered that. No. God, no. I couldn’t do that. I had goals and dreams that were taking me far away from here. Yes, staying would require less change than my goals. It sounded less scary than moving to Paris or even New York. I swallowed all the words I thought about saying.

“She’s an awful human being,” I said instead.

His expression softened as he reached me, cupping my face with his hand. He looked at me like I mattered. Like I was the only one. In that moment, I forgot how to breathe. I considered going for it, telling him how I really felt. Telling him I’d do it . . . that I’d marry him if all he needed was a stupid contract. I opened my mouth to say it but couldn’t seem to get the words out. He lowered his face and pressed his lips on mine. It was a gentle kiss that spoke of longing and left me bereft when it ended. He looked at me for a long moment, still holding my cheek in his large hand.

“I’m sorry she bothers you.”

His flippancy made my jaw clench. “You’re sorry she bothers me? Are you kidding? You’re really going to fucking marry her, aren’t you?”

“It’s only a contract.”

White-hot rage swelled inside me. I yanked his hand from my face and took a step back. “This is going to ruin your life.”

He shrugged. “It’s just business.”

“She said something about seeing my wedding dress designs. That isn’t just business.”

His jaw ticked. There was a sudden change in his expression. “When did she say this?”

“Today at the office. She was all smug about it.” My voice lowered to a near-mutter, but the rage didn’t disappear as I pictured her stupid face and her stupid smile and her stupid words. “I hate her.”

“Tess.” He sighed heavily.

“Don’t ‘Tess’ me. This isn’t high school.” I walked to the cupboard and pulled out a glass, unscrewing the bottle I’d corked the other night, and served myself a glass. It was one of the better red wines from the chateau.

Thinking about that place brought another wave of anger. My mother leaving my father and going to live with a man-child. Fucking ridiculous. The entire universe was playing a seriously sick prank on me. I focused on Camryn and continued my rant. “She’s such a bitch. Like seriously. Why would you ever marry her? She’s a viper and a disgusting excuse for a human being and she’s going to make you more miserable than you already are.”

I gulped the wine and looked over at him. He looked completely amused, with his arms crossed and his brows raised.

“You done insulting her?”

I set my glass down with a loud clink. “Oh, fuck you.”

I walked out of the kitchen and stomped up to my room. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t see it. She was terrible for him, just a contract or not. She wanted to wear my dress design? She wanted to . . . oh my god.

I felt sick.

He was really going to marry her. Rowan Hawthorne was going to marry another woman, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. The reality of the situation shook a new wave of emotions into me. I went over to the little bench by the window, the one I’d sat on countless nights when I felt lost and afraid. I slid my shoes off, brought my legs up, and wrapped my arms around them, placing my chin on my knees. Maybe he’d go get his stupid car and leave me alone. Maybe I would draw a bath and drink the rest of that wine and call it a night. I’d pack tomorrow, leave the next day, and never look back. I’d be in New York on Monday, in Paris by Wednesday. I’d let him get married and live happily ever after with that stupid, gold-digging whore.

I jolted a little when he sat by my feet, offering me a new glass of wine. I took it and sipped.

“I don’t want you to marry her.” My gaze found his. I fought the tears.

“I know.”

“But you’re going to anyway.”

“What do you suggest I do, Tessa?”

I shrugged, biting my lip to keep from shouting, “Marry me!” I wouldn’t say it, but from the way his eyes widened, I felt like he could read them on my face anyway.

“I would never ask you to stay.”

“I know.” I hated that about him. Hated that he wouldn’t ask. “Because you’re scared.”

His eyes flashed. He took a sip of wine and merely nodded. Shock shot through me. He was scared. I’d been right all along. We were both scared. I reminded myself of that. I didn’t want to give up my goals and dreams, but he understood where I stood on that. He’d never stop me from chasing them. This wasn’t high school or college. I wasn’t afraid to stay and fight his demons with him like I was back then when I didn’t follow him to Columbia. I had my own hurdles to get over. Maybe we could do it together. I licked my lips.

“We can be scared together,” I whispered.

“Absolutely not.” His voice was firm, leaving little wiggle room for an argument, but I pushed.

“I’m not ready to let go.”

“You have to.”

“I can’t.”

“Your wings aren’t clipped, and I won’t be the reason you start thinking you can’t fly,” he whispered, coming closer, his wine-infused breath mingling with mine. “You can fly, you know?”

“I know I can. I want to fly with you.”

“You aren’t a duck.”

I smiled despite myself. Bastard. I hated that he made me smile in times like these. “I can be.”

“You’re too beautiful to be a duck.” He kissed the tip of my nose.

“Right, but not too beautiful to not be a fairy.”

“With beautiful magic,” he answered. My heart pounded. I didn’t like this. I couldn’t handle this. I looked away, and he kissed my cheek, my jaw. “Magic that pulls me under. My little Sprite with the beautiful golden skin and the amazing dark eyes that could convince a man of anything.”

“Stop,” I whispered.

He didn’t stop. He took our glasses and set them aside. He undressed me in silence, pressing his lips on my chest with each button he undid. Each kiss filled me with an insatiable longing that threatened to rip me apart.

“You’re so beautiful, Tessa.” He breathed the words, peeling off my skirt, my underwear, unclasping my bra as he sucked my neck, as he let the straps fall from my shoulders. He brought his calloused thumbs and dragged them against my nipples in a motion I felt straight between my legs. I threw my head back and whispered his name.

His mouth came up to my ear, promises falling from his lips. “I’m going to make you scream that tonight.”

My heart jackhammered as I undressed him, my fingers not moving fast enough on the buttons of his shirt. He shushed me and put his hands over mine, helping me undo the buttons. My gaze came up to meet his, breath hitching at the expression he had on his face. I stopped unbuttoning. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t go through with this. Not tonight. Not like this. Not with him looking at me like that.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” he whispered against my lips before kissing me. I softened against him, continued working buttons free as his tongue worked on mine.

“What’s on yours?” I countered when I came up for air. I threaded our fingers together and held our hands at our sides, leaning in to place my lips against the center of his chest and drop kisses over his ridged stomach. My tongue peeked out and licked one side of that sensual, deep V that sloped from his hips and disappeared toward my destination. I wasted no time undoing his belt and pulling his pants and briefs down to reveal his proud, thick length. My breath hitched, my insides contracting with memories of it inside me. Without another thought, I took him into my mouth, swirled my tongue around him, moaned around him as his fingers dug into my hair. He wrapped a handful of hair around his hand and pulled me away, bringing me up so I was eye level to his throat before lowering his lips to mine.

I felt the kiss down to my marrow. It was slow and sensual, deep and amorous. Things I’d never felt, never imagined feeling in my lifetime. His hand explored my body, my breasts, the slope of my hips, caressed my inner thighs until it found my core. His fingers were slow, his strokes meaningful against my slippery desire. With each touch, he made me feel everything. I felt exposed and raw, delicate. When he laid me down on my back and looked at me, his hands running over me softly, as if I were something to be cherished, his gaze unblinking from mine, as if I were special, I felt I might just break. He lowered his lips to mine again, captured my emotion in his mouth as he parted my legs and thrust into me. It was a deep, merciless thrust that took my breath with it.

This wasn’t fucking.

It wasn’t what we’d done before. It didn’t feel casual or like something we’d walk away from unscathed. It was daunting and intimidating, a tangled mess of want and need and all the unspoken words weighing heavy between us. My bones rattled with the awareness of him and the pleasure coursing through me.

“I do not bleed,” he whispered against me. A reminder not to lose himself, I was sure. I told myself the same thing, but I didn’t feel it, didn’t believe it. He opened his eyes and looked at me before saying it again. I panted, wanted to call his bluff, but couldn’t bring myself to humiliate him like that. Couldn’t bring myself to point out that neither of us would be the same after this.