That this could be a mistake didn’t once occur to me as I waited, perched on the stone bench behind the rose bushes.
Summer’s warm breath clung to the crisp night, humid residue weighing down roses in full bloom.
Romeo Costa was three minutes and thirty-four seconds late.
Yet, somehow, I knew he’d come.
I bit my lip to stem my giggles. Adrenaline coursed through my veins.
When crunched leaves penetrated cricket chirps and hums from faraway cars, I straightened my spine. Romeo’s flawless features came into view, illuminated by the moon’s sleek blue shadow.
He was even more beautiful in pure darkness. Like he was in his natural habitat, playing on his home field.
True to his word, he held an open champagne bottle by its neck in one hand and a handful of shortbread squares tucked inside a napkin in the other.
“My precious!” I growled in a Gollum voice, extending my fingers.
He gave me the bored glare of a man used to fending off fangirls, before realizing I’d reached for the shortbread, not him.
I shoved an entire square into my mouth, tipped my head back, and groaned. “So good. I can practically taste London.”
“Surrey,” he corrected, staring at me as if I were a wild boar he needed to wrestle. “Do you enjoy the taste of ancient ruins and manure?”
“Buzzkill.”
For a reason beyond my grasp, he seemed really unhappy about spending time with me, even though he’d initiated this meeting.
“Let’s go somewhere discreet.”
It was more of a demand than a suggestion.
“No one will find us here.” I waved a hand. “I’ve been attending this ball since I was sixteen. I know every nook and cranny in this place.”
He shook his head. “Some waiters come here for a smoke.”
Romeo must’ve not wanted to be seen with me just as much as I didn’t want to be seen with him. I was a provincial, silly girl to his billionaire-tycoon reputation.
I sighed, dusting shortbread crumbs onto the cobblestone. “Fine. But if you think I’m going to go all the way with you, you’re gravely mistaken.”
“I wouldn’t dare assume.” He punctuated the dark mutter with his back, starting for the other side of the courtyard.
It seemed like he was running away from me, not leading the way. I followed him nonetheless, munching on my third shortbread.
“What made you come to the rose garden? The snacks or the proposition?”
“A bit of both.” I licked my fingers. “And the fact that I bet Madison doesn’t stay fai—” I stopped myself.
I shouldn’t talk badly about my fiancé, even if he did do me dirty. We weren’t officially together. We hadn’t even kissed.
It wasn’t like I was jealous. I couldn’t give the first dang about whom he hung out with before we truly became a couple.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” I amended.
“Your cat will survive. Though I’m tempted to leave it in less-than-pristine condition.”
My cat? Did he mean my pu…
Oh. My. Lord.
My body, which didn’t get the memo that we were both supposed to dislike conceited jerks, got tingly in places I normally forgot existed.
“You’re terrible,” I informed him cheerfully. “You’re going to be my favorite mistake.”
He stopped on a rolling green hill at the back of the opera house. It seemed secluded enough, with a dark wall to our right.
Romeo passed me the champagne bottle. “Drink.”
Pressing it to my lips, I drained a fifth. “You’re not a master of seduction, are you?”
He leaned against the wall, hands tucked inside his front pockets. “Seduction is an art I rarely have to perform.”
The fizzy liquid ran down my throat, cold and fresh.
I coughed a little, forking over the bottle. “So humble.”
He took a generous swig, the gum still in his mouth. “Are you a virgin?”
“Yes.” I glanced around, suddenly wondering if it was worth it. He was hot. But also, kind of a pig. “Are you?”
“Close enough.”
The question had been a joke, so it took me a while to register his answer.
Tipping my head back, I laughed. “What do you know? There is a sense of humor under all this ice.”
“Have you considered how far you want to take this?” He passed the bottle back to me, two-thirds empty.
“Can I just tell you when to stop?”
“From my brief history with you, my guess is you won’t stop until you’ve not only lost your virginity, but have lost the virginity of every other well-bred girl in this zip code, too. Let’s agree to keep your hymen intact.”
Someone needed to work on their dirty talk.
“Sounds good. Are you from New York?”
“No.”
“Then wher—”
“Let’s not talk.”
Oh. Kay.
The man wasn’t going down in my history book for the nicest hookup, but he was the hottest one by a thousand miles, so I let it slide.
We shuttled the champagne back and forth until it emptied. My body felt like a live wire, humming with anticipation.
Finally—finally—he set the bottle on the ground, pushed off the wall, and pinched my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting my head up.
My heart somersaulted, diving to the pit of my stomach, where it liquidized into sludge.
For the first time, his eyes glittered with warm approval. “I’ve met IRS agents more likable than you. I’ll give you one thing, though. You’re quite delicious, Miss Townsend.”
My mouth fell open. “How would you kno—”
But I never finished the sentence because he spat his gum on the grass and shut me up with a searing kiss.
His mouth was warm and smelled of bonfire, expensive perfume, and spearmint. It sucked all logic out of me, rendering me dizzy.
His body felt strong, hard, and foreign. I molded into him, wrapping around him like an octopus.
He darted the tip of his tongue out, parting my lips. When I opened them eagerly, his satisfaction reverberated in my stomach.
He cupped the back of my neck to deepen the kiss. His tongue was fully in my mouth now, exploring the grounds like it was conquering every inch.
The bite of freshness from his gum filled me. He tasted delicious, applying just the right amount of pressure.
Just like that, his harsh words and stony exterior melted into passion, fire, and a depraved promise for things I didn’t know if I could handle.
The place between my legs throbbed.
I tried to remember if anything I’d ever done before felt like this. The answer, depressingly, was no.
This was completely new territory. Unchartered waters I wanted to dive right into.
I whimpered into his mouth, yanking the lapels of his jacket, my tongue chasing his. I didn’t care what he thought of me. I’d never see him again.
My hands roamed his sleeves, clutching the expensive material and sinewy muscles beneath it. He was athletic and built without looking bulky.
Lord, he was beautiful.
Cold, smooth, and imperial as marble.
As if somebody had breathed just enough soul into a Roman statue to make it move—but not enough to make it feel.
As we devoured each other, I wondered if I could feel each individual ridge of his six-pack. I patted down his abs. I could.
Wait until Frankie heard about this. She was going to cry horny tears.
Romeo pushed me against the wall, wrapping my dark tresses around his fist two times over like reins of a horse. He tugged, slanting my head up and deepening our kiss.
His massive erection dug into my thigh, pulsating with heat and need. A thrill shot up my spine.
“My, my.” His grip tightened. I felt him unfurling, the walls around him cracking just a tad. “You were made for corruption, weren’t you, Shortbread?”
Did he just call me…Shortbread?
“More.” I clawed at his suit.
I didn’t know what I was asking for. All I knew was it tasted and felt better than any dessert. And that it would be over in a few minutes. I couldn’t afford to be gone too long.
“More what?” His hand had already snaked into the slit of my dress.
“More…I don’t know. You’re the expert here.”
He gripped my ass. An index finger slipped under the elastic of my cotton panties, plowing into my butt cheek.
“Yes. Yes. That.” I broke our kiss, biting his chin, my inexperience bleeding into the encounter when I couldn’t help myself. “But…the other way. Up front.”
“Sure you want to lose your virginity to the fingers of a stranger who gave you shortbread?”
“Don’t push inside, then.” I jerked my head away, frowning at him. “Just work around…you know, the frame.”
He shoved his hand between my legs, covering my heated center with his palm, squeezing hard. “I really ought to fuck the sass out of you right here and now for that smart mouth of yours.”
It marked the first time this artful Mid-Atlantic man had used profanity, and somehow, I knew it was a rare occasion for him.
Arching my back, I plastered myself into his hand, searching for more contact. “Mmm. Yes.”
He stroked my slit through my panties, drawing an oval around it with his finger without actually touching it. Maybe it was because his touch was unhurried, fleeting, and designed to drive me wild, but my panties dampened.
Sweet torture, it was amazing.
“Does your mouth always get you into trouble?” He finished kissing me and graduated to driving me nuts by stroking my pussy, staring down at me with open irritation.
Weird man.
Very weird man.
But not weird enough for me to walk away from whatever was currently happening between us.
“Always. Momma tells me if I ran my legs as much as I ran my mouth, I’d be an Olympic—ohhh, this feels good.”
His finger dipped into my slit, curling over my clit, then retreated as quick as it came. To my horror, I heard my wetness as he parted my lips.
“Do that again.” I nuzzled into his neck, high on his scent. “But all the way.”
He groaned, followed by what I was pretty sure was a harsh whisper of what a mess.
Hey, no one was holding a gun to his head.
“Are you even having fun?” I was beginning to think he regretted the whole thing.
Even through my lusty haze, I could tell he appeared more irritated than turned on. I mean, his leg-length cock definitely told me he wasn’t suffering, but he seemed very upset about finding me attractive.
“Ecstatic.” His voice dripped sarcasm.
“You can suck on my nipples if you want. I heard it’s hot.” I reached for my corseted breast, tugging at the fabric.
His hand rushed to grasp mine and cupped my breast, keeping it clothed. “Generous of you, but I’ll pass.”
“They’re pretty nice, I swear.” I tried tugging harder to show him.
His hold tightened around my hand. “I like my things mine. Concealed from view. For my own private entertainment.”
His?
I sobered up. “Yours?”
Just then, the wall we’d leaned against collapsed.
The hostess of the ball stood on a podium, holding a remote to fireworks.
We were standing on the podium, too.
Oh, Lord.
This wasn’t a wall.
It was a curtain.
And in front of us sat the entire three-hundred-strong guest list of the ball.
All slack-jawed, wide-eyed, and judgmental as heck.
I spotted Daddy immediately.
Within nanoseconds, his olive skin turned eggshell, yet his ears grew redder and redder. A couple thoughts finally filtered into my lust-fogged brain.
First, Daddy was definitely, two-hundred percent going to cancel all my cards, from the Amex to the library one.
And finally, I realized what everyone was seeing.
Me, in the arms of a man who sure wasn’t my fiancé.
His hand shoved between my legs through my dress.
My lipstick ruined. My hair a mess…and I knew I’d given him a few visible love bites.
“Dude.” That was Frankie from the deep jaws of the crowd. “Momma’s gonna ground you till you’re forty.”
The throng erupted in excited chatter. Phone flashlights attacked my face as I stumbled backward, pushing Romeo Costa away.
He wasn’t having any of it, though. The psychopath pretended to protect me, shifting me behind him. His touch was careless and cold. An act.
What on earth was happening here?
“…ruined for every other man in this zip code…”
“…poor Madison Licht. Such a good fella…”
“…always been problematic…”
“…a scandal magnet…”
“…horrible fashion sense…”
Okay, that last one was a flat-out lie.
“D-d-daddy. It’s not what it looks like.” I tried to smooth out my Oscar de la Renta and stomped Romeo on the foot with my spiky heel, finally breaking free from his hold.
“Unfortunately, it’s exactly what it looks like,” he countered, stepping deeper into the stage and scooping me by the elbow to join him.
What in tarnation was he doing?
“The secret is out, my love.”
His love? Me?
He made a show of wiping the hand that was between my legs just seconds ago on my designer dress. “Please, don’t call my Dallas a ruined woman. She merely yielded to temptation. As Oscar Wilde pointed out, it is naught but human.”
His eyes remained hard.
Dead on Daddy’s.
Naught but?
Why was he talking like a Downton Abbey extra? And why did he say I’m ruined?
“I should kill you.” My father, the great Shepherd Townsend, shouldered through bodies to reach the stage. “Correction—I will kill you.”
Cold white panic coursed through me. I really wasn’t sure if he was talking to me, to Romeo, or to both of us.
My fingertips were so frozen, I couldn’t even feel them. I shook like a leaf blowing in the autumn wind.
I’d really done it this time.
This was no longer about failing random courses, sassing off to someone whose opinion my parents sought, or not-so-accidentally eating Frankie’s birthday cake.
I downright and single-handedly ruined my family’s good reputation. Tarnished the Townsend name to rubbles of gossip and condemnation.
“Shep, is it?” Romeo un-pocketed the hand not wrapped around me and checked the Patek Philippe on his wrist.
“It’s Mr. Townsend to you,” Daddy ground out, now onstage with us. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I see we’ve reached the bargaining portion of the night.” Costa gave me a once-over, as if trying to decide how much he wanted to bid on me. “I know Chapel Falls has a you-break-it-you-buy-it policy in place when it comes to your maiden debutante daughters.”
His words thrashed against my skin, leaving angry red marks everywhere they touched.
Now that no one could hear us, he no longer pretended we were an item and spoke to Daddy like a businessman. “I’m willing to buy what I’ve broken.”
Why was he talking like I was a vase? And what on earth was he proposing, exactly?
“I’m not broken.” I shoved him, halfway toward feral. His hold on me only tensed in response. “And I’m not a product to be bought.”
“Zip it, Dallas.” Daddy’s breaths came out labored and heavy. Sweat like I’d never seen on him before raced down his temples. He inserted himself between us as if he couldn’t trust either of us not to launch into a fresh session of lovemaking. And finally, Romeo released me. “Now, I’m not sure what you’re proposing, Mr. Costa, but this was nothing but a few kisses on a drunken night—”
Romeo lifted his hand to stop him. “I know what your daughter’s pussy feels like, sir. Tastes like, too.” He licked the pad of his thumb, never breaking eye contact with Daddy. “You can try to talk your way out of this until you’re blue in the face. The world will buy my version. We both know it. Your daughter is mine. All you can do now is negotiate a decent deal out of it.”
“What’s going on over there?” Barbara stood in the crowd. “Is there a proposal?”
“There better be a proposal,” someone else warned.
“I didn’t even know they knew each other,” Emilie cried. “All she talked about was the dessert.”
Shame colored my face pink.
The only thing keeping me up on my feet was the deep-set knowledge that I’d never let this awful man win.
My anger was so poignant, so tangible, I tasted its sourness in my mouth. It coated every corner, dripping into my system like black poison.
Daddy lowered his voice, leveling Romeo with all the hatred he possessed. “I promised my daughter to Madison Licht.”
“Licht won’t touch her with a twenty-foot pole now.”
“He’ll understand.”
“Will he?” Romeo arched a brow. “Put aside the fact that his fiancée was caught with my fingers up her dress in front of her entire hometown, I’m sure you’re aware we’re bitter business rivals.”
Ladies and gentlemen, the man who apparently wants to marry me.
Safe to assume Edgar Allan Poe wasn’t churning in his grave, worrying about being knocked down from the Great Poet pedestal.
“Hey, now. This is my daughter, and I—”
“Gave her away to a well-off prick, who I’m sure is going to treat her like a piece of baroque furniture.” There was no mirth in Romeo’s voice. No victory, either. He delivered the news like a sulky Grecian god deciding on a mere mortal’s fate. “There is no difference between what I offer her and what Madison Licht brings to the table, other than the fact that I am soon to be worth twenty billion dollars, and his company isn’t even public yet.”
The entire weight of the world came crashing down on me when I understood two things:
1) Romeo Costa had known exactly who I was when he’d arrived at this ball. He sought me out. Lured me in. Made sure he had my attention. I was always his objective. After all, he’d said it himself—Madison Licht was his enemy, and he wanted to ruin things for him.
And 2) Romeo Costa was such a bastard, he would marry me despite making every single person involved in this union miserable, just to spite my fiancé.
Former fiancé, more likely.
I raged forward, palms connecting with his chest. “I don’t want to marry you.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” He stepped into my fiery touch, picked up my left hand, and glided Madison’s engagement ring off my finger. “Alas, a tradition is a tradition. I touched; I ruined. Say hello to your new fiancé.” Romeo examined the ring pinched between his fingers, unimpressed. “This thing barely costs sixteen grand.”
He tossed it into the crowd, and a few less-than-honorable girls tried to catch it.
The air drained from my lungs.
Romeo examined my father with a perfect poker face, confident that, despite my recklessness, I wouldn’t dare defy the patriarch’s order if he decided we should marry.
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
“Daddy, please.” I rushed to him, lacing my arm with his.
He jerked away from my touch, scowling at his loafers, struggling to regulate his breaths. My cheeks pricked with rejection, as if he’d struck me.
My father had never been so cruel to me before.
I wanted to cry.
I never cried.
Evil had a face. It was breathtakingly beautiful…and belonged to the man who had just become my future husband.
“Why don’t we discuss this away from prying eyes?” Daddy peered around, worn out and pain stricken. I’d probably tarnished that tux for him, too, just as I’d tarnished my future. “Mr. Costa, report to my house immediately.”
Romeo Costa brushed his arm over my shoulder as he passed, not sparing me the faintest look.
“Ruined by shortbread.” He popped a cube of gum into his mouth as his imposing figure descended the stage. “How the mighty have fallen.”
The second hand embarrassment 💀💀