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As he drives the five of us back to the high-rise, I sit bolt upright in the front passenger seat, too aware of the energy zinging back and forth between me and Liam. My bone-deep want for him has become all-consuming. It’s more than wanting to make him proud, it’s making him see me as a whole, as the woman who’d do anything for him.

During the entire drive, he says nothing. He doesn’t even chime in as Brady and Cora tease Finn about his series of dance partners. Apparently the age range of potential brides for Finn was much greater than expected.

I try not to glance over at Liam too frequently. They’re potential brides for him too, whether he admits it or not. When I think about his true wife as an actual person, someone who was physically at the party tonight, my body goes numb. When she was just an idea, a distant future, it was an easier concept for me to handle.

Now, she’s too real.

I want Liam with every fiber of my soul, and this unknown woman is destined to take him away from me. She’ll be mafia, as dangerous as he is. And I’ll return to my humdrum life, pining over a man I never really had.

As soon as we’re alone in his penthouse, I slip out of my coat and shoes and pad to the en suite. When I get out, Liam’s got his arms crossed as he leans against the wall. He’s clearly been waiting, glowering directly at the bathroom door. At me.

I avoid his glare by beelining for the mirror above his dresser. I can still see his reflection, but I focus instead on taking out my earrings, which are an engagement gift from Cora and Brady.

“So did you enjoy it?” he asks, his tone gruff.

“Of course I did.” I lay the first earring on the dresser, admiring the way its diamond strands fan out. “Your mam throws an incredible party. It’s kind of a shame it was all for show.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he snaps.

My second earring snags, its strands twisting. I tsk to myself as I undo the tangle. When I finally have all the strands straightened out, I glance up at the mirror. Liam’s scowling.

“Did you enjoy Seven touching you like that?”

“Are you serious?” My stomach plummets, and I turn to face him. “We were dancing. After all your da’s talk about peace—it was a peaceful gesture.” Blood rushes to my face as I push away from the dresser. I didn’t want to dance with Seven. I hated every second of it, in fact. But Liam’s acting like I initiated the whole thing.

Without my heels on, my calves scream like they need stretching, the way they do after a long run. I balance myself against the wall to prop up one foot. The side of my face grows hot from Liam staring at me. I feel too scrutinized, the way I did in front of the cameras.

“It’s all for show, anyway.” I try to adjust my foot’s placement, but my toes catch in the hem of my gown. I groan inwardly. I can’t take this dress off by myself, and loosening these laces will take patience. I pad over to Liam, who hasn’t moved from his position beside the partially open bedroom door.

“I don’t care if it’s for show,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “It’s supposed to be convincing.”

“It was convincing. I had Seven⁠—”

Liam moves swiftly, pinning me against the wall. My laces press lightly into my back as he braces his arms around me, one hand on the wall on either side of my shoulders.

I’m aware of my heavy breathing, my increased pulse. Liam’s scent envelops me. It’s the smell of safety, but my adrenaline has already spiked. His body radiates heat inches from my own.

“Seven’s the problem,” he snarls. “You can’t flirt with him like that.”

I take a shaky inhale to remind myself that this is Liam. My best friend.

“While you’re mine, you’re mine,” he says. “Especially if it’s just for show.”

“So it is just for show?” I ask because I don’t know anymore.

“That’s what we agreed to. A show for when we’re in public.”

“And behind closed doors?” My voice is a whisper. Liam lifts one hand from the wall, reaches out, and closes the door beside us.

“You tell me, Brioni.” He drifts his hand back toward me, resting his fingers on the chiffon of my cap sleeve.

I close my eyes at his touch, savoring it. So right. I feel him glide his fingertips down the length of my arm. He’s moving so slowly, like he’s challenging his own control as he waits for me to answer. Goosebumps break out along my skin, and my nipples harden into points beneath my dress. Liam’s rough fingertips reach my wrist.

I turn my hand to twine my fingers with his.

Then his lips crash onto mine. We kiss like he’s devouring me, like I’m his for the taking. And I am. I let go of his hand to wrap my arms around his strong shoulders, aching to give myself to him. Distant warning bells ring in my head. We can’t consummate our marriage.

But we aren’t married yet.