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"I believe I won the festive command."

"And you've used it."

"Maybe it came with installments."

"That wasn't in the terms."

"I'm renegotiating." Her hands slide down my chest, over my stomach, and her fingers hook into the waistband of my jeans, and my entire body goes rigid. "And I think it's going very well."

I lower my mouth until it almost brushes hers. "What's the first installment?"

She bites her bottom lip. I watch her gather her courage the way she gathered it on that mountain, in that lobby, on that ladder… and then she looks me dead in the eye.

"My first command is for you to take me upstairs."

Every wire in my brain burns out at once.

"First?" I manage.

"Oh, yes." Her mouth curves into the most dangerous smile I've ever seen. "I'm planning to beat you again."

And standing there in the empty restaurant, with the farm and the scouts and every sensible reason for control still stacked in the back of my mind, I understand something.

She doesn't need a bet. She doesn't need a command or a negotiation to get me to listen.

I'd do anything this woman asked.

"Let's go."

I take her hand and lead her out of the restaurant.

Chapter 7

Audrey

The elevator has mirrors on three walls, which means there are currently six Miles Strattons riding upstairs with me, and every single one of them looks like a decision I'm about to make.

Neither of us is speaking.

A tiny wreath hangs beside the control panel, filling the enclosed space with pine, while an instrumental version of O Holy Night plays softly overhead like the elevator itself understands the gravity of what's happening.

I ran out on my wedding six days ago.

Six. Fucking. Days.

There should be guilt arriving any second now. Panic. Some dramatic urge to hit the emergency stop button and escape through the ceiling like a woman in a heist movie.

I wait for the shame to show up.

Am I a bad person? Does this make me just as awful as Brett?

But instead of shame, I'm staring at Miles's hand, and the only emergency happening in this elevator is how badly I want that hand on me.

I catch him watching my reflection. He doesn't reach for me though, because I made a rule, and Miles Stratton apparently treats my rules like prophecy.

He kissed me once and then went right back to waiting like he's some kind of perfect gentleman. An infuriating, enormous, painfully patient gentleman.

His restraint is somehow hotter than if he'd pinned me against the mirrored wall the second the doors closed.