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The elevator dings down the hall.

Footsteps. Laughter. A lighter, feminine murmur I could track through a hurricane.

The door swings open.

And I forget to breathe because Ariel steps fully into the room.

A fine sheen of heat climbs my throat under my shirt.

Christ, she’s stunning. Her fiery hair tumbles over her shoulders, contrasting perfectly with the cerulean silk of her dress, which hugs her curves, then lets them go. The blue matches her eyes so precisely that it seems like fate was consulted. Her makeup lends smokiness to her eyes and a ripe, kiss-bruised sheen to her plump lips.

I want to frame the sight. Want my fingers on the zipper as it whispers down her spine. I want to ease the straps off one by one, to kiss the warm notch of her shoulder, then lower, following that invisible line the zipper leaves behind. Want the silk to sigh around her hips and pool at her feet. Want my palms cupping the lush curve of her ass.

I want her against my door, breath fanning my cheek as I press her wrists above her head and taste the salt-sweet skin of her collarbone. Want to kneel and smooth my hands up the backs of her thighs, watch goosebumps chase my touch, feel her tremble when I kiss the soft insides of her thighs. I want to lay her back, slide my hand between those thighs and find the heat I know is waiting for me, tease until she shouts my name—wrecked and hoarse. Want to sink into her slow and deep and feel her clutch at my shoulders like she’s anchoring us both.

I want. Fuck, do I want!

I blow out a shaky breath. First, dinner. Then, every fantasy I just imagined, taken apart piece by piece with my hands and my mouth until she’s shaking under me and I’m the only thing she can think about.

“We’ll take different cars,” Kara says, choosing not to be collateral damage when I arrive with Ariel.

“Probably wise,” I say, and offer Ariel my arm.

She takes it like the old-world princess of a country I don’t know how to find on any map.

Gravel crackles under the tires as we turn up my parents’ drive. The house rises out of the trees—stone, turrets, blue shutters—a castle that always felt like a suit two sizes too big. Tonight, it feels like a stage.

“Wow,” Ariel breathes. “It’s a whole castle.”

“Generations of overcompensation,” I say dryly. “If my dad gets irate, go to the car. I’ll meet you there after I’ve had my say. I’m done letting him script my life.”

She frowns. “I should be there. With you. If he aims at you, he hits me too. That’s how support works.”

Christ, I love her spine, this blossoming fierceness as she discovers her inner strength. I love… her. Fuck, I love her… and I plan to show her with my mouth, hands, and cock later.

“You’re the reason I’m doing this,” I say, catching her hand. “Before you, I kept my head down and played along. Since you walked in, I’ve started saying what I mean and drawing lines I should’ve drawn years ago. You make me plant my feet, make me see what’s important. Who is important.” I lift her hand and press my mouth to her knuckles. “Trust me.”

Her breath hitches. “I do.”

Relief loosens the tightness in my chest. I brush a curl behind her ear, and she leans into my touch. “Then let’s go, my little water nymph.”

Polished wood, gleaming floors, and brittle laughter greet us inside the house. The air smells musty, like old money. How did I not see this before? The sheen that covers the walls, the smiles, the speeches is like cheap lacquer hiding the cracks. A museum of the life I agreed to; curated, expensive, and so fucking empty.

It hits me in small flashes. Place cards laid out like orders. My mother’s martini-perfect charm that’s really a script. My father’s approval measured in balance sheets and obedience. Kara and I displayed side by side like matching investments. Me, the agreeable son, polished when required, silent when not useful.

I told myself it was easier this way. Keep the peace. Nod in the right places. Wear the suit even when it never quite fit.

Then Ariel saved me from the lake, and everything had weight again. Color bled back into a world that had become monochrome.

I hear my father’s voice in the next room, and for the first time, I rise to meet it. Decide what I’ll answer and what I won’t.

Ariel’s fingers flex against my palm, a quiet strength at my side. I glance at her, and something steady settles in my chest.

I press a quick kiss to her temple and straighten as a servant appears to announce us. The chandeliers glitter like teeth. My father turns with that conqueror’s smile that he thinks is paternal.

For years, I walked into this room already apologizing. Not tonight.

My mother materializes, martini in hand, the pearls at her throat gleaming under the chandelier. “Everett, so glad you came, my love. And you’ve brought your… friend.” The word slides out of her mouth like it touched something unpleasant. “So this is the girl from the woods who saved you. I suppose I should thank her.”