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“I’ll hang this on the tree when we get home,” I say during the drive, playing with the long ribbon on the box.

“Home?” he asks.

I didn’t even think about the word. It just came out, the way it does when you’re heading back after a nice night. But now I hear it. And I think again about what Pascal told me—he doesn’t do casual.

I don’t answer. I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, I’ll say something that pulls one of us in too deep to climb back out. Though I’m starting to think that might not be so bad.

A few times on the drive, it seems like we’re both about to say something. Neither of us does. I stare out the window, running my fingertips over the velvet bow and thinking about his hand on mine. It gets so charged in that car that I crack the window just to let in some cold air.

When we pull up, Zander’s car is already parked, and the other two have gone inside. Pascal walks around, opens my door, and offers his hand, so I don’t slip on the ice.

The second I take it and stand, I’m close enough to feel his breath on my cold face. It’s too much. And apparently, it’s too much for him too.

Because instead of letting go and walking inside, he tightens his grip, leans in, and kisses me.

I’ve been waiting for this kiss since the day I got here. I’ve imagined it more times than I’d ever admit. And when his tongue slides against mine, slow and deep, I know it was worth every second of the wait.

When he pulls back, I turn toward the house, wondering if that’s the first and last time. But I barely take a step before Pascal surprises me.

He wraps an arm around my waist, lifts me off the ground, and throws me over his shoulder in one easy motion. I clutch the box with both hands, so I don’t drop the ornament, and every part of me goes hot when I hear the word he says under his breath as he carries me toward the house.

“Mine.”

CHAPTER 27

PASCAL

My control has broken.

The tight reins I’ve always kept on myself, for my family’s business and the image they expect of me, have snapped. It didn’t take some cataclysmic event. It took one word.

Home.

Nina said it so casually, like an afterthought. Natural enough to be true. I tried to keep my composure on the drive. I tried to pull myself back in after that kiss. I failed. I can’t keep myself from her anymore, or keep ignoring what I’ve wanted for two weeks. I can’t pretend this house doesn’t feel like home with her in it, or that I don’t want her to be mine.

I didn’t plan for this. But now that it’s happening, I can’t stop it. I won’t.

I carry her inside over my shoulder, my arm locked across the backs of her thighs. She doesn’t say a word in protest. She’s clutching the little ornament box against my back with both hands, and I can feel her trembling.

Zander and Jarek glance out of the study as I pass the doorway and head for the stairs. Neither of them says a word. Jarek lifts his glass an inch. Whatever jealousy there was between us at first is gone, the same way my resolve to put my own wants last is gone. Right now, only one thing matters to me.

Nina.

In my bedroom, I set her on her feet and nudge the door shut with my heel. I take the box from her hands and set it on the nightstand.

Then I just look at her.

Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and snow is melting in her hair. She’s still in her coat and boots. Her lips are swollen from the kiss outside.

“You’re staring,” she says, a little breathless.

“I’ve been trying not to for two weeks. I’m done trying.”

I unwind her scarf and drape it over the chair. Then I unbutton her coat, one button at a time, and ease it off her shoulders. I kneel and unzip her boots. She braces a hand on my shoulder while I slide them off, one and then the other, and set them by the door.

When I look up at her from the floor, she’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.

“What?”