The next day is thankfully low-key, with just a tense family breakfast before everyone breaks off to do their own thing. Max disappears to work on a freelance article, and I spend the day lounging on the beach before heading back to get ready for the big party. I picked out a floor-length sweeping gown in the boutique on the way over for tonight’s big event, but looking at myself in the mirror with only minutes to spare, I’m struck with nerves. Is it too much? Or maybe not enough? From the way Max described the party tonight, it’s more like a red carpet gala, the Oscars meets a Presidential Inauguration—with the guest list to match.

And I’m supposed to blend right in. Ha. As Max’s one true love. Double ha.

The door swings open, and my supposed fiancé comes barging in without so much as a knock. “Hey!” I protest. “For all you know I’m naked in here!”

“I . . . uh . . .”

Max is stammering uncharacteristically. I turn. He’s staring at me—the kind of slow, heated stare that makes me flush from head to toe.

He lets out a low whistle of appreciation. “Wow. You look incredible.”

“Thanks.” The fabric felt cold when I put it on. Now my skin is sizzling. Max is looking pretty wow himself. His usually-ruffled hair has been tamed smooth, and that divine body of his fills out his fitted tux to perfection.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice?” I say, trying to pretend the heat I’m feeling isn’t desire.

Florida. Too humid by half.

Max strolls over all casual, but I swear I can feel the temperature rising with every step he takes. He dips his hand into his pocket and produces a ring box.

I blink at it for a few seconds. “Um . . .”

“We’re supposed to be engaged,” he says. “And I figure my betrothed deserves a ring.”

Right. The act.

He pops the box open, and I can’t help gasping. The ring inside is literally the most beautiful piece of jewelry I’ve seen in my life. A massive, sparkling diamond sits at the center of a spiral of smaller stones, shaped like the unfurling petals of a rose. As I gape at it, Max takes my hand. He slides the platinum band onto my finger. “A perfect fit.”

“Meant to be, obviously,” I joke faintly. But I’m still a little awed as I hold up my hand in front of my face. A rainbow of colors glitters inside the finely cut gems.

I never imagined I’d wear anything this gorgeous—or this expensive—even for pretend. “What if I lose it?” I gulp. “Or get mugged?”

“In the Carlisle ballroom?”

“You know what I mean!” My heart races, just trying to imagine how much money is currently sitting pretty on my ring finger.

Max chuckles. “Relax. There’s security at every exit. And all the family gems are insured.”

“This is an heirloom?”

“Of course. A Carlisle would never be gauche enough to propose with a store-bought ring.” Max’s tone is mocking, another glimpse of that family responsibility he carries around.

“Oh. Well, thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“As are you,” he says smoothly.

I slip into the bathroom to collect my earrings, but when I emerge, Max is by the desk, leafing through a familiar-looking portfolio. “Are these your photographs?” he asks, looking up.

“Where did you—?” I stop. Of course. Whoever helpfully ironed my panties must have unpacked the portfolio, too. “Umm, yes.”

“These are good.” Max furrows his brow. “Really good. Have you thought about getting published?”

“Ha!” I snort with laughter. “Only every day since art school.” I drift closer, wondering if he’s just being polite. “You really like them?”

“I do.” Max lingers on one of my favorite prints, a misty morning shot of the meadow in Central Park. I found a woman sitting on the bench there alone, just gazing at the trees, and something about her solitude hit me right in the chest. “It feels like she’s the only woman in the world,” he says quietly, and I’m surprised that someone as charismatic and charming as him could even recognize what loneliness looks like.

“We shouldn’t keep everyone waiting.” I quickly take the book from him and put it aside.

Max gives me a look. “Foiled again.” He offers his arm. I collect my jeweled clutch purse and take it, balancing on my stacked sandals as he steers me out of the room.

“How many people are going to be at this thing exactly?” I ask, trying to calm my nerves.

“Oh, only several hundred or so.”

My stomach flips over, and I try to give myself a quick pep talk. I’ve got this. I’ve been at huge conferences with thousands of important people. So what if I’m the one on display this time? They don’t really know me. I’m just a future Mrs. Carlisle to them. Here for Max, not myself.

This is business, not personal.

---

By the time Max and I make it across the estate to the ballroom, my feet are killing me. “You guys should have golf carts to get around,” I joke, trying to ignore my jittery pulse.

“I’ll put that in the suggestion box.”

We step into the ballroom, and my breath catches.

The ceiling here has got to be two stories high. Massive chandeliers dangle from it, their light shining off the gold leaf decorations. The place is big enough to feel like I’ve just entered a football stadium. A very, very well decorated football stadium. With a hell of a lot of people in it.

I don’t think Max was exaggerating when he said “several hundred.” They’re swarming in clusters all around the room. All of the women are in dresses as elegant as mine, the men in starched tuxes or the fanciest of suits. Their voices bounce off the ceiling in a mishmash of sound.

“It’s showtime,”Max murmurs, sounding reluctant, and I’m reminded that I’m here for him, not me. My nerves don’t matter—what does is making tonight as stress-free and easy for him as possible.

“Never been more ready,” I reply brightly, and squeeze his hand. “Let’s knock ’em dead. Metaphorically speaking. Although, I’ll be on the lookout for Parker coming at you with the butter knife.”

It works. Max gives me his trademark smile. “Never turn your back on a Carlisle,” he quips, and we wade into the fray.

We don’t make it more than a few paces before someone grabs my arm. “Oh!” exclaims a stately woman with a small beehive of silver hair. “You must be the new fiancée I’ve been hearing all about.”

“That’s me!” I say brightly. “It’s so exciting to be here and meet so many of the people in Max’s life.”

She looks down her nose at both of us. “Well, I’m sure we’d be a lot more in his life if he were around a lot more. Where were you gallivanting this time? I do hope this means he’ll settle down now,” she adds to me. “Being a Carlisle isn’t all jet-setting vacations, you know.”

Max gives a measured smile. “I contribute in my own way, Aunt Diane.”

She makes a snorting noise. I grasp Max’s elbow. “What was it you were telling me the other day about how your reporting increased readership?”

He looks a bit puzzled, but he follows my lead. “That’s right. We actually saw subscriptions increase by fifteen percent last year after I started my regular reporting for Global Weekly, for example.”

“Oh,” the woman says, looking genuinely taken aback. Apparently there’s no way she can belittle that accomplishment, so she brushes it aside. “Well then. I just hope you’ll consider taking your seat on the board before too much longer.”

“Seat on the board?” I whisper to Max as he pulls me away.

“The board of directors for the company,” he says. Right, of course. “We’re all supposed to attend. But like I said before, sitting at a desk, even a big one, doesn’t really appeal.”

“OMG, look at the size of that thing!” We’re interrupted as a gaggle of ladies comes over to ogle my ring. Playing along with their oohs and ahs is easy enough. I grin and giggle and fawn all over Max like any adoring fiancée would. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” I gush. “I just know we’re going to have a wonderful future together.”

Max snickers, and I jab my elbow into his ribs. “Roses are my favorite flower,” I add loudly. “So he found the ring to match. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Is that true?” Max asks, after we move away. “About the flowers.”

“Nope.” I grab a glass of the finest wine I’ve ever had the pleasure of pouring down my throat. “I’m more a daisy girl myself. But now your proposal is even more special.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried at how easily you lie,” Max murmurs.

“Definitely impressed.”

A portly man who I swear has a monocle tucked in the breast pocket of his suit comes sauntering over. “Young man, young man,” he says, clapping Max on the shoulder. Max winces. “It certainly is good to see you finally settling down. I hope you’re going to apply the same philosophy to your career now.”

“I haven’t made any decisions about that just yet,” Max says.

Geez, these people really are singing from the same hymn sheet, aren’t they?

“Oh, but I’d be so sad if you stopped with the reporting.” I turn my oh-so-innocent gaze on Portly Dude. “The work he does is so important, you know. Bringing awareness to all those global crises. Encouraging accountability on an international scale. How could there be a more worthy cause?”

This dude obviously can’t think of any. He blusters wordlessly for a moment and then just says, “Keep in mind where you’re meant to be.”

Max chuckles as the guy waddles off. “Very smooth, Hallie. Very smooth.” He gives me that thoughtful look again, but it feels warmer this time. Almost tender. Or maybe he’s just acting the part too. “Thanks. It’s funny, it never occurred to me that having a fiancée might mean having someone on my side for once.”

“I guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” I say instead, walking my fingers teasingly up his chest. Something hotter sparks in Max’s eyes, and suddenly, the room seems smaller. More intimate. Like we’re the only two people around.

I look away. “Where to next?” I ask loudly, taking another gulp of wine.

“You haven’t met Uncle Kenny yet.” He slips his arm around my waist, and directs me across the room. “He’s one of the good guys.”

Even if he hadn’t told me that, I could still have guessed from the way Kenny raises his glass to us in greeting. “I hope you kids are having fun,” he declares. “Because I definitely am not.”Max laughs. “No one makes you come to these things, Uncle Kenny.”

“Oh, you know the fuss the old man would kick up if I didn’t. Anyway, I’ve got to stay in touch with things, see what’s in style.”

“My uncle is the art director for Carlisle Publishing,” Max says to me in explanation.

My heart leaps. Then he’s the guy who’s the boss of the boss of the boss of that editor who couldn’t be bothered to look at my portfolio. It’s a shame I couldn’t have snuck that big binder in here under this dress.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says with a tip of his head. “I’d welcome you to the family, but, well, you’ve met them, so it would be more of a condolence.”

“I’ll take it anyway,” I smile. “Max says you’re one of the good ones.”

“He does, does he?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Max adds. Kenny laughs.

“We like to stick together. And now our numbers swell, with you. We’ll have them beat in no time.”

He turns to greet a passerby, and I touch Max’s arm lightly. “Can you point me to the bathrooms—or do I need GPS?”

Max chuckles. “Just keep heading to the back of the room, then take a right.”

“Thanks.”

I slip away, and manage to navigate to the opulent bathrooms without any major mishaps. Inside, I splash water on my wrists and take a deep breath. So far, so good. I’m not humiliating Max, at least, and it doesn’t hurt that snuggling up to my beloved fiancé isn’t exactly a chore.

Who’s turning out to have way more depth than I gave him credit for . . .

Not that it matters to me. I freshen up my lipstick and head back out, taking my time to absorb the crowd. A social experiment gone wrong, Flora called this whole to-do. It’s a hell of a spectacle, that’s for sure.

A familiar nasal voice reaches my ears. “I’ve been putting the pressure on him for years. It’s ridiculous the way he’s holding out.”

Cousin Artie is holding court just beyond the bar, his lips pulled back in their typical sneer. “My grandfather has no sense of the times. The company is a dinosaur. We should sell it off while there are people still wanting to buy it.”

“Right,” a guy beside him laughs. “Like Franklin would ever agree to that.”

“I’m going to keep working on him. I’ve got several of the key board members backing me up. But he owns too much of the stock to do it without his go-ahead. Parker’s been nudging him too. We’ll see.”

Lovely. Now I definitely don’t feel guilty about thinking of the family as sharks. What a bunch—Franklin Carlisle lording it over everyone in his slightly maniacal way, the younger generation circling him, ready for a feeding frenzy.

Really, it’s a miracle Max turned out as grounded as he is. And when I’m thinking of a cocky billionaire playboy as fucking grounded, you knew these people are the next level of bizarre.

“There you are.” Max’s arm slips around my waist. “I was ready to send up a distress flare.”

“Your fan club getting to be to much?” I say lightly.

He snorts. “More like the Disappointment Society.”

“Well, this fan club member thinks you’re doing just fine.” I give him a reassuring smile, just as Franklin emerges from the crowd near us. He manages to look imposing even though that skinny frame can’t weigh much more than half what I do. If he combed his hair before the party, you can’t tell. He has put on a tuxedo, though—a deep purple number that matches the . . . is that a gold dragon’s head protruding from the top of his cane? Yes, yes it is. With glinting amethyst eyes.

All righty then. Throw in a cackle and he’ll have the supervillain part nailed.

“Grandchildren,” he says with a broad sweep of his arm. “A word, please.”

From Max’s expression, I can tell what we please doesn’t matter much at all. He takes my hand, and we troop after the old man. Artie stalks along too, catching up with Cordelia along the way.

We duck into a side room that’s just as lavish as the ballroom we just left. A grand piano stands at one end, at the edge of a Persian rug. Flora, Parker, Brad, and their parents are all already assembled. We come to a stop beside Flora.

“What do you think the big announcement is?” she asks. “We’re all getting ponies?”

Max chuckles. “Somehow I have a feeling it’s not going to be anything that simple.”

Franklin takes his place at the head of the room, and a tall, dour-faced man motions for silence. “That’s his lawyer,” Max murmurs. His hand tenses around mine. Yeah, even I can figure out that’s probably a bad sign.

Franklin clears his throat. Like magic, every murmur in the room falls away. All eyes rest on him.

“Thank you all for joining me here to celebrate my eighty-fifth birthday,” he says. “Though I don’t fool myself into thinking any of you really want to be here. Which is exactly why I feel it’s time I made a few changes. Percy?”

The lawyer moves through the room. He hands each of the blood relatives a sealed linen envelope. Max turns his over in his hand, frowning.

Franklin waves his cane at his assembled family. “I’m shaking things up around here. You’re all lazy, irresponsible layabouts. So, forget cashing in on me when I leave this mortal coil. You want to inherit the company? You’re going to have to earn it. Prove you’ve got what it takes to carry on the Carlisle legacy.”

“Dad, what are you talking about?” Uncle Arthur says. He’s gone very pale.

Franklin gives him a thin smile. “We’re going to have a treasure hunt. Or rather, you’re going to have a treasure hunt, and I’m going to watch. Each of you has the first clue in your envelope. The first one to the end of the hunt wins it all.” His eyes twinkle. “Every last share I own. It’ll all come down to one of you.”