Sofia is uncharacteristically late.

I glance at the platinum blonde, way-too-high heel wearing wedding planner to my right. I shrug, giving her a smile that would ordinarily bowl over any woman I shine it towards. This one’s no different.

“Women, right?” I grunt; “Can never get ‘em anywhere on time.”

The wedding planner flashes me a smile back. Her cheeks barely move: pumped up with something, no doubt. I can’t help but cast my eyes over her, but I don’t like what they see. Compared to Sofia’s new, original, just came from the crafters’ hands Ferrari, this girl – China, or India, or another name that fled my mind the second she told me it – is an old, held together with spit jalopy. The fresh lick of paint on her cheeks does nothing to disguise her failing tires.

“Not all women, honey,” she titters. I swear; if she could, she would blow me a kiss. I’m not sure how professional that is, especially given her line of work.

Sofia storms through the doors of the Mandarin Oriental. I figured that since we’re never going to have this wedding, anything Declan can do, I can do better: and bigger; and more expensive; naturally. I just want to see the look on my brother’s face when I send him the quote.

A room at the Ritz-Carlton sets a man back five hundred bucks. The Mandarin? Yeah, that’s gonna be closer to seven hundred.

Sofia is wearing a scowl that looks like it could kill a small mammal. I lean over and take her hand, but I have to force it. Her body is stiff and unresponsive. Still, she looks as good as ever. Her russet brown hair is silky smooth, and glints with the light. She’s wearing skin-tight floral print leggings. They hug Sofia’s perfect legs. All I want to do is rip them off her body. I don’t care who sees, but I guess Sofia wouldn’t feel the same. Nor right now. Especially not right now.

“Glad ye could make it,” I say, just to wind Sofia up. Her lips don’t even so much as shiver. I wonder what got stuck up her ass this morning.

“Oh gosh,” China bleats, “this must be your gorgeous fiancé. You simply must introduce us; I’ve heard so much!”

I raise a hidden eyebrow in Sofia’s direction. “China,” I smile, “please meet my beautiful soon-to-be wife, Sofia Morello.”

China glances up at me with vapid confusion on her face. “I’m so sorry. I’m actually Mercedes.”

I grin, and it seems to smooth things over. “Of course: Sofia, Mercedes; Mercedes, Sofia.”

China –, I mean, Mercedes, leans in towards Sofia. She pretends to cover her mouth, but speaks in a stage whisper. I don’t know what game she’s playing. Sofia ain’t the kind of girl who responds well to this kind of babble.

Mercedes shakes her head. “Men!” She whispers. Sofia gives her a pitying half-smile. I don’t know how this wedding planner can’t see the kind of mood my girl is in. Instead of trying to make friends, she should be running.

“Now,” Mercedes says, gesturing out with both hands, “I’ve just got to see the ring.”

Sofia and I share a glance. It says one thing: now – that could be a problem. We could, and perhaps should, have anticipated Mercedes’ interest; if not from her, then from someone. But, the simple fact of the matter is there happens to be no ring. There’s nothing to show.

I slide in. Sofia shoots me a look of thanks. I hide a smile. She’s not going to be nearly so grateful in a couple of seconds. Call it payback for standing me up last night.

“Oh, ye don’t have to be embarrassed – babe,” I grin, maintaining eye contact. “Why don’t ye tell the nice lady …?”

Sofia’s eyes narrow as she realizes I’m not going to bail her out. She turns to Mercedes and throws the woman a tight-lipped smile. It’s not hard to tell that Sofia would rather be anywhere else, doing anything else, talking to anyone else.

“Well,” Sofia grins, “I was shocked of course …”

“Shocked?”

“Well I never expected Kieran to spend that much on a ring. What was it, darling –?”

“About – ,” I scramble. Not quick enough to avoid stumbling headlong into Sofia’s carefully laid trap.

“Twenty grand,” Sofia says with a wicked glint in her eye. “At least …” She stares at me pointedly. I start wondering where the hell I’m going to find twenty grand. At least …

“And you took it off?” Mercedes exclaims.

“Well,” Sofia smiles. “It wasn’t a thirty grand ring, was it?”

“Well,” Mercedes says clapping her hands together, “I must say – you’re the first lady I’ve ever met in my line of work who’s happy to slip the rock off her finger.” She shakes her head. “Believe me – with most of my girls, you’d have to lever the ring off of their cold dead fingers with a crowbar!”

Mercedes looks up at Sofia and giggles. She doesn’t get the expected laugh in response. Sofia talks with cold, dead eyes. “I’m not most girls,” she says flatly.

I step in. I’ve had my fun, but we have to put on some kind of a front. If we don’t act like a loving couple – at least in public, then this game is over before it even started.

I needn’t have worried. Mercedes claps her hands together again. The woman does it even more theatrically this time. It feels like her trademark move. Sofia’s coldness was, apparently, lost on her.

“Well – aren’t you two just the cutest.” She gestures towards a small anteroom off the main lobby. “If you’ll follow me, the Mandarin has been kind enough to set us up a little place to work.”

“I bet they have,” I grunt. “Making enough from t’is wedding, are they?”

Mercedes giggles politely, and turns away.

I hold out my arm for my darling faux-fiancé. “So, cutie pie?” I gurgle, copying Mercedes’s tone as far as I dare, “Coming?”

If looks could kill, I’d already be dead. Sofia takes a step towards me, and then another. She holds my gaze the whole time, like a king cobra stalking its prey. I extend my arm another inch, and Sofia knocks it aside, elbowing me sharply in the ribs.

A little hiss of air escapes my mouth. Sofia smiles at me sweetly, and links arms while I’m still recovering. “Of course… Dearest.”

I stroke my side. I lean in to Sofia’s soft, hot body, and let my lips graze her ear. “I guess I deserved that,” I whisper.

Sofia’s dark brown eyes twinkle up at me. I’m glad that – even in the depths of this foul mood she’s in – I could do something to amuse her. “I guess you did,” she whispers back.

Remind me never to really cross you, I think, wryly. I’m not sure I’d survive.

“So, tell me,” Mercedes says, crossing one leg over the other, and clasping her hands on top of her upper thigh like an extra from Gossip Girl. “How did you two meet?”

I nearly let my head tip back with frustration. I’m not sure what I’m more annoyed about; Mercedes’ inane babble, or the fact that Sofia and I are terrible at this pretending-to-be-in-love thing. If we really want to keep this charade up, we are going to have to try a whole lot harder.

Sofia jumps in. I glance at her, and notice she’s mirroring the way Mercedes is sitting. My girl leans forward, and rests against my shoulder. A sizzle of electricity crackles through me. I start to wonder whether we can cancel this meeting and head upstairs for some rest and relaxation…

“Weeell,” Sofia drawls, dragging out the word. She glances up at me, throwing me a teasing glance. I roll my eyes. “You know, I never did see myself falling for a man like Kieran.”

Mercedes leans in, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of gossip. “No?” She drawls, batting her eyelids at me. “He seems like quite the catch to me…”

I see Sofia’s features tighten out of the corner of my eye. It’s just a flicker, but to me – it’s as clear as the full moon in a cloudless night sky. I can’t help but wonder what it means. If I were a betting man, I would put my money on jealousy. But surely that cannot be the case? Not with the way Sofia is acting… I know she’s up to something. I can taste it in the air.

Sofia consciously leans back, pulling away from me. My shoulder feels naked without her heat. “Who does, Kieran?” She asks, glancing at me dismissively. I hold her gaze, and raise a questioning eyebrow. I know she’s playing a game. I just don’t know the rules.

“Yeah –,” I grin, “me?”

“If my Papa was still alive,” Sofia remarks, leaning in conspiratorially like one of Mercedes’ girls, “he never would have approved of Kieran.”

The faintest hint of a grin flickers across Sofia’s cheeks. I know she’s messing with me – I see it in the way her glance rakes my face before disappearing. I know she’s just checking to see whether her gibes are hitting home. And yet…

… And yet the irritation flares inside me.

“Oh?” I growl dangerously. I don’t know why Sofia’s words are having this effect on me. The truth is, if me da’ was still alive, he’d knock me to the ground before he allowed me to marry a Morello.

Mercedes glances at each of us in turn. She starts to look like a woman who knows that she is in over her head; like a person with a broken leg prodding a hornet’s nest. I guess that before long, she’ll be talking about us with her friends. I can imagine it now. “They were horrible, just horribl: so passive aggressive!”

Sofia licks her lips. I hold her gaze – trying to get her to stop, but she ignores me. Whatever my girl is doing, she’s making a conscious choice out of it. Sofia looks pissed – I just can’t figure why. “Kieran’s a bit rough around the edges –.”

Mercedes looks on the verge of panic. I guess she doesn’t see many arguing couples in her line of work. “Well,” she smiles – her voice a little high-pitched, “shall we –.”

“I mean,” Sofia continues, ignoring Mercedes’ attempted intervention, “just look at the way he dresses…”

I half close one eye. I don’t understand why Sofia is acting like this. There’s only one word for it – bitchy. Sofia Morello is a lot of things – cold, composed, even icy. I never had a problem with any of that – heck, I enjoyed the challenge of being the first person to melt her. But until now, I wouldn’t have called Sofia a bitch. Not to me. No, something has changed inside her. I need to figure out what.

“Sofia…” I say in a low, warning tone.

Sofia ignores me. Her tanned cheeks look heated now – tinged with a rosy red. It looks like she’s getting carried away in a torrent of her own anger. I just don’t get what I’ve done to provoke it. Was it pretending that this thing between us meant nothing to me? I wonder. Because the truth is, it did – it does. It means the world to me.

“I mean, come on,” Sofia growls. “That leather jacket –.”

I glance down. I’m wearing my favorite brown leather biker jacket, sure, but it’s slung over an open collared white shirt and gray woolen trousers. I look like a goddamn bank manager – just one with more than a lick of style.

“– He’s a teenaged boy trapped in a man’s body…” Sofia spits.

Mercedes doesn’t know where to look. In the end, she chooses to peer down at her hands, probably hoping for a hole to appear beneath her to swallow her up.

“Sofia!” I growl, voice low with tension. “Outside. Now!”

Sofia slumps back against the plush chair. I glance at her with concern: she’s actually shaking. I don’t know what the hell’s going on in her head, but I need to figure it out, and fast.

I get to my feet. I hate that I have to act like a mid-level account manager in this place. “If ye don’t mind, miss –?”

“Mariposa,” Mercedes replies breathily. “And of course not…”

Mercedes Mariposa, I think absentmindedly. What a name.

I grasp Sofia by the shoulder. She feels like a dead weight – like every muscle has turned to jelly. I have to physically haul her out of the chair. I lead Sofia into the hallway just outside. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s acting like a zombie. I wonder what would happen if I just let go.

“What’s going on with ye?” I whisper. “Yer acting –.” I stop myself just in time, just before I say something I might regret. “Is everything okay?”

Sofia stares up at me. She looks exhausted. Her eyes are almost wet. I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s never emotional, or at least she never shows it. But right now, that’s exactly what she is; Sofia looks on the verge of tears.

“Okay?” Sofia hisses. “Do I look okay?”

“Let me in, Sofia,” I beg her. “I can’t do a damn thing if you keep me at arm’s length like this. What’s wrong with ye? I want to help.”

Sofia’s lip curls. For a second, my stomach contracts: it appears to almost be like a look of derision. I don’t understand how this beautiful girl in front of me has just flipped on a dime like this.

But then Sofia’s voice cracks. It breaks my damn heart to hear it. I’ve only known this girl what – a month – and yet I can’t deny it, she’s doing something to me I’ve never experienced before. I don’t want to use that word, but it’s getting hard to deny that I’ve caught feelings for her.

“Help?” She croaks. “How can you help when you don’t even know what’s wrong.”

Sofia’s deep brown eyes well with tears. I can’t bear it for a single second longer. I reach out, and grab Sofia’s shoulders, and bring her into me. I give her the kind of hug the parents give kids. I don’t say a word. I know that this isn’t the time, or the place. Whatever Sofia is going through, I need to let her work through it at her own pace. There’s no sense in me pushing her – she’ll only resent me for it.

No matter how much it hurts, I’m going to have to wait for Sofia to be ready to open up.

“I’m here for ye,” I whisper into Sofia’s ear, fighting off confused looks from passing guests, “whenever yer ready. You just need to let me in.”

Sofia’s cheeks stroke my bunched pecs, and I realize she’s nodding her head. I allow myself a small sigh of relief. I know that when she’s ready, she’ll come to me. That’s all I want. We wait like this for I don’t know how long.

I squeeze Sofia against me, and then whisper into her ear: “shall we go back? Or –,” I pause, and a mischievous smile creeps onto my face, even if Sofia can’t see it, “–

Sofia pulls away, clearing her throat. She shakes her head, sniffing. “No – let’s get this over with.”

I turn to go back in, but Sofia’s fingers close around my arm. “Thank you, Kieran,” she says – brown eyes trained on mine. “For not punching me …”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I shrug, grinning, and follow her back to Mercedes.

Mercedes’ eyes dance over Sofia’s streaked make up. I glower at the wedding planner, and she shrinks underneath my glare. She claps her hands together – again. “All better?”

Neither of us answers.

Mercedes plasters a fake, plastic smile on her fake plastic face. “Great. Now, shall we get started? Trust me. You’re going to love what I have planned.”