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Which was bullshit.

I knew it because Jace couldn’t look at me, Elias went quiet in that particular way he does when he disagrees but hasn’t decided whether to start a fight, and Nate wore the same expression he uses in meetings when he’s technically answering a question without actually telling anyone anything.

Every time I pushed after that, one of them found a way to redirect me. Dinner. A movie. Shopping. By day four, I threatened to go home.

That earned me the key fob.

Not answers.

Now we’re living in the space between a gift and an open question, and I’m not sure which conversation scares me more: why I’m still here, or what they’re still not telling me.

Cypress is scaling the ridiculous three-story cat condo the men bought him, complete with platforms, scratching posts, and a hammock overlooking the living room.

Elias spent an entire Sunday putting it together while Nate attempted to supervise. When the two started arguing over the hammock's placement, Jace disappeared and returned with someone who apparently assembled cat furniture professionally.

Cypress has deemed their efforts acceptable. He's claimed the hammock, surveying the room with the flat patience of someone who has never once doubted he deserved this.

I drop onto the couch, waiting for Jace. We've started the nightly routine of watching something mindless together, and tonight it's The Crown Jewel. Jace discovered the dating show three weeks ago and has not shut up about it since.

The elevator chimes, and speak of the devil. Jace spots me on the couch and the grin that splits his face is immediate and artless, the kind that makes the room feel warmer.

"You're looking devastating in that shirt. Did you raid Elias's closet again?"

I tug at the hem self-consciously. "It's comfortable."

"It's a crime, is what it is." He crosses the room in three long strides and leans down to press a quick, warm kiss to my mouth, leaving my lips tingling. "He's going to walk in here and lose his whole mind."

"He gave it to me," I say as he drops beside me and pulls me into his side, lifting my legs across his lap.

He reaches for the remote, a fancy tablet that illuminates under his touch. With a faint hum, the wall opposite us slides open, revealing a screen so large it feels less like a television and more like a private theater.

"That is genuinely too much television," I say.

"That," Jace corrects, already navigating with two fingers like he's conducting something, "is the correct amount of television."

He finds show in approximately four seconds, which tells me he has it saved, and taps it without an ounce of shame. The opening credits roll as the camera pan over a mansion that looks like it was designed by someone who had only ever heard a description of Versailles.

“God,” Jace mutters fifteen minutes in. “Look at her. Look at her. She’s already lying.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Sloane.” He says my name as if I’ve personally disappointed him. “Last week, Dominique told Callum she was falling for him. On camera. In front of the whole group.”

“And?”

“And then proceeded to go on a date with three other men, and I quote, ‘felt a real connection’ with all of them. She’s a menace. A beautiful, calculated menace.” He shifts beneath me, curling his arm tighter around my waist. “Look at her. She’s mirroring him. Classic manipulation.”

“Or maybe she just likes him.”

“Nobody likes anyone on this show, Sugar. They're here for brand deals. Dominique has an athleisure line launching in November, and that man can't even pronounce champagne.”

I glance at the screen, where Callum is confidently calling it champ-agn, and bury my face against Jace's chest to muffle my laughter.

“He's going to propose in three episodes,” Jace continues, entirely too pleased with his prediction. “She'll say yes because the ring is sponsored, and six months later they'll be selling their breakup story. And you know what? I'm watching every second.”

I dissolve into another fit of laughter. “I can't believe I'm actually falling in love with your dramatic ass.”

It takes a moment for my brain to process the words that just left my mouth. But when it does, the air in the room goes very still.