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For the last ten days, from the outside looking in, Grace and I have managed beautifully to balance our personal lives, our business lives, and the life we put on for the camera.

We are the perfect couple. Successful, happy, and in love, and magazines are reporting that the merger of our families is a brilliant business move. They are reporting what we intended, just like we planned. However, on the inside, I’m suffering. It’s pure agony being around Grace as much as I am, wanting to get my hands on her again or get another chance to kiss her.

She said it was off the table. Kissing.

So when I leaned in the day after we got back from LA, I thought she’d know I was doing it for the cameras. That she would trust I wouldn’t actually ignore a request she made of me.

Hell.

Now, I can’t stop thinking about how she wanted me to kiss her.

Kissing Grace is all I’ve thought about since I watched her fall apart in my kitchen.

Needless to say, it’s been a long, long ten days.

I’ve respected the space Grace has put between us when we aren’t in public, but it kills me. I need to talk to her, but I don’t know what to say. Fuck that. I do know what to say—I just don’t know how to say it in a way she will believe I’m saying it for us and not the media.

“Well, the numbers look great, so I like the direction we are moving in. Does anyone else have anything to add before we end the meeting for today?”

I blink back to reality.

This meeting was longer than it needed to be, and for the last ten minutes—you guessed it— I’ve been thinking of Grace.

But in my defense, once Marcus started talking, I zoned out. I swear that man loves the sound of his own voice. He will find any topic to drag a meeting out. His way of looking important to the rest of us.

“No?” He grins when no one speaks up. “Then I guess⁠—”

“Did we get a head count for St. Lucia?” Bash asks. He’s not in all the meetings, but they needed him in this one, and I can’t help but smile when he interrupts Marcus.

“Ah, that’s right,” Arnold says. “Preston, you haven’t RSVP’d yet.”

I stare at my computer.

“For St. Lucia?” I ask for clarification. I wasn’t on the invite list. The board and a very select few go once a year, but it’s invitation-only. Just because I’m the CEO’s son doesn’t mean I’m automatically included. I’ve never been invited. Especially since they all take their significant others. Not having one has been a pretty good indicator that I’m not invited.

Anthony nods. “The emails went out two weeks ago.”

I start to click around in my emails, searching for it. “I don’t see anything in my inbox.”

A few heads turn to Marcus. “You did include him on the email, correct?”

“Of course. He must have lost it or deleted it.”

Lost an email? What an idiot.

“It’s fine. I’ll forward it. We leave in two days. I hope that’s not too short notice for you and Grace,” Bash says.

My heart hammers in my chest. Fuck yes, I’m in! This plan is working, and they want me at the fucking retreat this year. But it’s also hammering because how the hell am I going to convince Grace to take off five days on a last-minute notice?

“Must I remind you that it’s a couples’ retreat, Mr. King. If your fiancée can’t make it, neither can you,” Marcus just has to add on. “Now, please reply to Bash with your RSVP by day’s end.”

“You got it,” I say and click off the Zoom platform as the round of goodbyes begins.

My phone vibrates.

Bash

You’re coming, right? Marcus will shit a brick if you do. I need to be a witness to this.