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When I reached my vanity and squeezed a dollop of toothpaste onto my brush, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, my cheeks still flushed bright pink, my lips slightly swollen, and my eyes wider than usual. God, what a kiss.

Business arrangement or not, the only thing I could think about was Holden, currently going through these same motions just down the hall. I suddenly wondered what brand of toothpaste he preferred and whether he liked sleeping on the left or right side of the bed. A soft giggle came out of me when I thought about seeing him again in the morning, wondering if he might kiss me good morning.

Oh, God. Tasha was right. I am utterly and completely fucked. Is this what it feels like, the terrifying, precipitous drop of falling for someone?

I’d spent years convincing myself that love was a luxury I couldn’t afford, a romantic myth that belonged to people who had choices, and now, there was a possibility I was actually falling for my arranged husband. A man who was so entirely closed off that there was no telling what I’d get from him from one moment to the next, who looked at the world through a lens of cynicism and suspicion, and who still hadn’t even told me why he’d agreed to this arrangement in the first place.

I sighed, rinsing out my mouth before reaching for a makeup wipe. The important thing is he was right about us having time. We do have time. We don’t need to figure it all out tonight and he stopped us from crossing a line we couldn’t uncross.

Honestly, I didn’t know if I should be feeling this way about him or if he felt anything—other than lust—for me at all, but as I wiped off my makeup and got started on my skincare routine, I thought back to one of my most treasured childhood memories. The one I always revisited when I thought about love, marriage, and the possibility of building a future with a man.

It had been Christmas morning and I’d crept out of my room at the crack of dawn, a six-year old desperate to see what Santa had left under the tree.

I remembered padding down the stairs in my socks, not making a sound as the living room had come into view. Bathed in the warm glow of the multi-colored string lights on the tree, my mom and dad had already been down there, kissing in front of the hearth.

My dad’s arms had been wrapped around her waist, my mom’s fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, both of their shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. It had looked like a scene straight out of a movie about a genuinely happy family.

I’d felt so safe in that moment, knowing that nothing in the world could ever hurt us while they were kissing like that in front of the fire on an icy Christmas morning. The memory tugged painfully on my heartstrings as I finally finished up in the bathroom and slid under the covers on my bed.

Holden was cynical, grumpy, and he’d clearly been raised by wolves in tailored suits, but despite all that, he had moments of genuine joy. Flashes of time when he was warm, and fun-loving, and determined to really make this house his home.

He and I definitely had a long way to go before what we had between us would even begin to resemble a real marriage, but as I flicked off the light, I wasn’t as afraid of the fact that I was potentially falling for him. Come what may, he was my husband now and we were both determined to try.

It still wasn’t exactly an epic romance, but there might still be love in our story yet. One day. Hopefully, from both sides.

CHAPTER 27

HOLDEN

By the afternoon after the carnival, I felt like I was in way over my head, which was a feeling I’d always thoroughly detested. In my world, control was everything and I’d spent too many years not having it over anything.

I hadn’t been able to stop my father from doing stupid shit or getting caught for it. I hadn’t been able to redirect the news cycle when his mistakes had been the only thing they’d talked about for months on end. I hadn’t been able to protect my family from getting torn apart by the public, or from losing everything, or from spending the years that had followed as cash-strapped outcasts.

I slid my laptop into my bag and walked out of my final lecture of the day. My phone buzzed in my palm with a calendar notification from Colin. Great, and now I have to go to a meeting with my brother on top of everything else.

Objectively, however, the timing was actually pretty good. I was in the weeds trying to secure an official work-study placement and I’d decided to lean into the nepotism of being a Thayer a bit. With what we were facing, I didn’t want to work for a stranger, and gaining more experience in the company I’d probably end up at eventually anyway seemed like the path of least resistance. Taking that path was my plan.

As I strode across the parking lot to my car, I gripped the strap of my backpack so tight that my knuckles blanched, but seriously. Losing control again had my head feeling all kinds of messed up.

Once I’d gotten to know Alex and realized how he was always somehow one step ahead, I’d immediately known that was the answer to staying in control. No matter what, I always had to stay at least one step ahead.

Until now, I’d managed it okay, but this whole thing with Alicia had blown my carefully laid plans straight out of the water. So much so that I’d spent the better part of the morning desperately trying to avoid thinking about her lips against mine last night, alternating between kicking myself about putting a stop to it and thanking my lucky stars that I’d found the strength to keep my dick from taking over.

Wanting my wife had not been part of the plan, not in any way, shape, or form. Especially not wanting her that badly. It felt like I was drowning—or falling—and I didn’t know which was worse.

Maybe it’s a good thing I’m going to talk to Colin right now. Maybe he’ll be able to give me a clue about how to make sense of this. God knows, I haven’t been able to make heads or fucking tails of it by myself.

As I walked into the sleek corner office on the fortieth floor of Thayer Steelworks, however, I realized my big brother hadn’t called me over for a meeting about my work-study placement or the state of my marriage. My Spidey senses started tingling as soon as I walked in to see him standing by the windows with a glass of whiskey in his hand at four in the afternoon, his shoulders stiff as he looked out at the city below.

Colin wasn’t the type to drink on the clock. Hell, he was barely the type who drank off the damn clock. He was always too busy working, calculating, or preparing to board a flight back to Egypt, where he, his wife, and his child lived half the year.

Simply put, the guy never had time to stare absently out the window, nursing a drink that was filled to the brim. I shut the door behind me but didn’t walk further into his office, simply crossing my arms and leaning back against the door.

“What is it?” I asked without any prelude. “What’s happened this time?”

Colin finally turned away from the windows, lifting the bottle of whiskey from his desk and pouring a generous amount into the tumbler he’d had waiting beside it. Wordlessly picking it up, he held it out toward me and inclined his chin at the glass when I didn’t move to take it from him.

“Trust me,” he said. “You’re going to want this.”