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My stomach dropped.

You’ll see, Nessa had said. As if it were a foregone conclusion that belonging to Cam was my inevitable future.

“They are very hard to resist,” she continued as I spiraled.

Tingles woke in my skin, primarily in my fingers and lips, and a swoop of dizziness made me grip the chair beside me. Anything to keep me upright.

What exactly was she saying?

“Anyway,” Nessa said, brushing her arms nonchalantly. “The point is, you succeeded.”

Despite it all, a smile broke out. “I did. Wow. It wasn’t even hard.”

She beamed.

“Wait. You told him it was The Shepherd Foundation. That’s not a thing, right?”

“Oh, never mind that. It was just for practice.”

Cam appeared at my side a moment later. “Were we successful?”

I gave him my full-toothed smile. “We were.”

“Never doubted you,” he said, a hint of pride in his tone. He touched my shoulder, eyes finding mine. I could have drowned in that stare, somehow hot and tender and honey-sweet.

Forbidden, I tried to remind myself. He’s forbidden!

And if that wasn’t enough of an admonition, Shep slipped next to his wife, eyeing me closely. His Spidey sense must have been tingling.

Talk turned to bland topics—the distillery, the people present, new gossip—and it was all so effortless. The four of us chatted without hostility or awkwardness. It was easy. Dare I say, pleasant?

Shep hated me—I knew that—yet his manners were impeccable. If he hadn’t sat me down and called me a whore to my face, I’d think him the very picture of Southern gentility.

That was, until his gaze landed on a woman approaching us and his face lit up, more delighted than I’d ever seen it. “Ah, Miss Delacroix.”

Nessa and Cam both shifted, their expressions morphing into identical guises of alarm, proving their kinship.

Laney Delacroix’s exquisite form wedged between Cam and his father. Her dark hair cascaded in a curling waterfall down her back, studded with crystals that glittered in the light. Her midnight gown floated against her skin, fine as gossamer. Her skin was the same tawny color as mine, though hers had a sun-kissed glow to it. She was a stunning vision who entered our group with a graceful smile.

And then she opened her mouth.

“Shepherds! Can someone please explain who Ms. Foundation is?”

Shep’s mouth tightened, almost as if a smile lurked underneath. Nessa hid a snort in her champagne glass, so the responsibility fell to Cam to educate her. “It isn’t Ms. Foundation. It’s the MS Foundation.” At her blank look, he added, “Multiple sclerosis.”

She shook her head. “Whatever. How are you, Cammy?”

Cammy?

Nessa and I exchanged sickened looks. Shep’s stony expression spoke of a deep displeasure at how this encounter was unfolding. I couldn’t help but be a little pleased by that.

Cam’s hand gently cupped my elbow. “I’m well. Laney, I’d like you to meet Shay. She works at the distillery.”

“Hi.” I offered a small wave.

With a single sweep of her gaze, from my un-studded hair to my borrowed Jimmy Choos a half-size too big, she managed to evaluate my entire life and found it severely lacking. Her smile didn’t quite touch her eyes. “The distillery, huh? Bless your heart.”

Amidst the rolling tides of insult that washed over me, I murmured a supremely intelligent, “Ungh⁠—”