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“No.” I lean in, remove a ring from my finger, and slip it onto his pinky finger. “There. That’s a good start, and it’s kind of hot.”

He rolls his eyes and wraps an arm around my shoulder, guiding me outside. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

The small act of affection seems easy for him, natural, but it makes my stomach swoop. He makes me sick in the best way. This is the first time I’ve faced him after what we did on the phone, and while I’ve been telling myself it was nothing—a moment of horny weakness—Sterling is instantly making me doubt everything.

Is this a date? Oh gods. I didn’t realize I was agreeing to a date.

“Everyone is late to parties,” I say. “It isn’t a business meeting.”

He gives me a dry look and opens the car door. “Get in.”

“Yes, sir.”

Now, when he groans, I know it’s because he wants me—not because I annoy him. Or maybe it’s a little bit of both. Our video call was exactly what I needed to feel more confident, even if I have no clue whether we’re going as friends or more—and, more importantly, whether I want to be friends or more.

He obviously thinks I’m hot, and that’s something.

When we drive away from the house, the lights flicker, as if she’s saying goodbye.

Donnie’s party is as over-the-top as everyone said it would be. When I get out of the car, my jaw is on the floor. I’ve seen this house before, and it definitely wasn’t black.

“Did he paint his house for this party?”

“No. Just an illusion. He enlisted the help of a glamour witch, I’d imagine.”

“Talk about commitment.”

The inside is equally perfect. His home is opulent, dripping in diamonds and rubies, but it’s a gothic wet dream. The music is simultaneously gothic and weird but sort of upbeat. I spot the purple demon—Donnie. He approaches immediately, and to my surprise, he hugs my not-date. And then, he hugs me.

Thanks to Sterling being early, we’re two of the first people here. I guess it makes sense that we’d get a little more attention.

“Aurora Seren,” Donnie says. “I’ve heard so much about you, but we haven’t had an opportunity to chat.”

A man next to him—bleach-blond with deep brown skin—wiggles his fingers. His husband, if Starbrook gossip is to be believed.

“Nice to meet you,” I chirp. “Donnie and Regan, right?”

“That’s right.” Donnie pats Sterling on the back, turning his attention back to the other man. “And Sterling. I’m surprised you made it. Do we have your date to thank for that?”

His date…

I was already thinking about it, but hearing it from someone else makes my face hot. A giggle falls past my lips.

Oh god. I did it. I agreed to go on a date. I made this happen. One date is fine—I’ve been on dates. I like going on dates. There’s no way I’m going to a party alone, after all, so I might as well bring a date.

But Sterling and I are already so intertwined in ways I don’t want to be. He’s holding my greatest secret, and he hasn’t shared it with everyone. He’s seen me break down. He knows how much pain I’m in.

I can’t date Sterling. He can send me videos of him jerking off, and I can call him sir, but we can’t date.

“You do,” he says, unfazed. Apparently, I’m the only one who didn’t realize this is a date. “She dragged me out here. What do we have to look forward to for the evening?”

“Catering in the dining room, dancing, making conversation. All things you’re horrible at.” Donnie’s attention shifts as a group of witches—the Hawthornes and their partners—enter. “But, of course, the pumpkin carving competition… well, we did miss you last year.”

Sterling shrugs. “Sure. I’ll enter.”

“Good. Then have a wonderful time.”

Regan winks at us and follows Donnie over to the new group.