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Ben nods. He gives me one more look—the big brother look, the we’ll talk later look—and walks back to the bar.

I exhale. My hand is still in Aiden’s. I’ve been squeezing so hard my fingers ache, and he hasn’t flinched once.

“That was your brother,” he says in the elevator.

“That was my brother.”

“His resting heart rate is very low. That typically indicates either excellent cardiovascular fitness or extensive training in high-stress environments.”

A laugh bursts out of me. “He’s a cop, Aiden.”

“Yes. I could tell.” He pauses. “It could be a problem.”

The elevator dings. The doors open. I grab my bag and step into the hallway.

“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

Chapter Eleven

Ruby

Handle With Care

The hotel room is nice. Nicer than I expected—stone walls, vineyard view, a king bed with a white duvet. One bed taking up nearly the whole room. I clock it, file it under “problems for later,” and drop my bag on the dresser.

Aiden follows me in, looking around the room the way he looks at every new space—methodically, cataloging. He sets his bag on the luggage rack and starts unpacking with the neat precision of someone who folded everything into perfect rectangles.

His blazer goes on a hanger. His shirts line up in the closet. His underwear—the non-negotiable boxer briefs—go into the top drawer.

I’m pulling out toiletries when I hear him go quiet.

I turn around.

He’s holding the vibrator.

It’s in his hand again. The same one. The purple one. The one I shoved in my bag at the last minute because—I don’t know why. Because I’m going to be at a stressful wedding for three days and a girl has needs and I wasn’t thinking about the fact that a synthetic man with zero understanding of privacy would be unpacking next to me.

“This is the device from your nightstand,” he says.

“Put it down.”

“You brought it with you.”

“Aiden, put it down.”

He sets it on the dresser—gently, the way he always handles it, like it’s a piece of lab equipment—and looks at me with that head tilt. “Why did you pack it?”

“Because—” I close my eyes. Breathe. “Because it’s a three-day weekend and I—it’s none of your business why I packed it.”

“You packed it because you anticipated needing it.”

Oh, good grief! “I’m not having this conversation.”

“Ruby… as your friend Liv previously pointed out in the dressing room,” he says, with the calm, measured tone of a man presenting a quarterly report, “I have the equipment. I could bring you pleasure.”

The air leaves the room. All of it. Every molecule.

“Aiden. Stop. We’re not discussing this.”