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“Nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t force the answer from me. “Eat before Bliss starts assigning duties. You’ll need your strength.”

“I play professional hockey.”

“Today you’re leading Briggs through organized activities.”

I looked toward the buffet, where Briggs had placed four cinnamon rolls on his plate and was attempting to convince an employee that whipped cream qualified as protein.

“That’s beyond my training.”

Charm laughed and returned to her breakfast.

I poured creamer into my coffee, then reached inside the pocket of my black shorts and removed the flask I’d filled before leaving my room.

Charm watched me unscrew the cap.

“Ryan.”

“This itinerary begins with the phrase strategic bonding.”

“It’s eight thirty in the morning.”

“I own a watch.”

“You brought mezcal to breakfast?”

“I brought mezcal to a day containing coordinated shirts and a castle scavenger hunt.”

I raised the flask, but Charm sighed and took it directly from my hand.

“Thank goodness. Hangover juice.”

She drank before I could answer.

A laugh escaped me as she lowered it and winced against the burn. “You stole my flask while criticizing me for having it.”

“I questioned your judgment. I never said it was wrong.”

“You’ve changed.”

“I’m adaptable.”

“You’re a thief.”

Charm took another quick drink, then returned the flask. “I learned from you.”

I accepted it, deliberately turning the opening until my mouth settled against the same place hers had touched. Charm noticed. The smallest shift in her breathing told me she understood exactly what I was doing.

The mezcal burned less than her attention.

Charm had warned me she wouldn’t fight fair. Apparently, her strategy involved tiny acts of intimacy designed to feel too familiar to resist. She hadn’t realized I wasn’t interested in resisting them yet.

“Subtle,” she said.

“I’m drinking.”

“You rotated it.”