Until then, I know one way to keep her dialed into me.

  “Come here.” I reach for a condom and lift her onto me until she’s straddling my lap.

  Automatically, she grabs my shoulders. “What are you doing?”

  “Like you mentioned, we didn’t negotiate cuddling; we negotiated sex.” I rip into the packet, then roll it on before lifting her onto my stiff cock and easing her down, reveling in her hiss and her wet pussy closing around me. I position my lips against hers. “I’m just living up to my end of the bargain.”

  After more sex Sunday morning, followed by a relaxing brunch with the Reed clan, where Corinne fit in perfectly, we took Echo and Hayes to the airport that evening with promises to visit before wedding prep gets too crazy.

  It’s a promise I don’t know how to keep, and I hate lying to my best friends.

  On our way back to my place, Harlow called to say that she, Masey, and Britta had freed up a few hours in the morning to help my “fiancée” clear up her clerical backlog. Corinne seemed genuinely touched and thanked the trio profusely. Her gorgeous smile—and every other sexy part of her—made me want to seduce my way into her panties again. And bless my family for accepting her the way they embraced me when I was a stranger who happened to share their blood.

  But in the back of my mind, worry keeps brewing like a coffeepot with no off switch. How will I explain our breakup to everyone if I can’t persuade Corinne to stay? Sure, I’m determined to do whatever I can to make this work. Failure isn’t an option and all that…but I’m a realist. I have maybe a fifty-fifty shot.

  Coupled with another shitty-market Monday, I’ve got a lot on my mind. Worse, my phone, which was fairly quiet yesterday, started blowing up this morning, in the middle of a call with a jittery client. If the fucking paparazzi is back on my case, I’m going to be hard-pressed not to throttle Parker.

  Speaking of which, where is the bastard hiding? He’s been too quiet since Saturday night. I know better than to think he flew to the island in the middle of his big movie-premier weekend to berate me, then shrugged off failure when he couldn’t compel his sister to leave with him and return to LA. He’s somewhere, plotting something devious.

  “You’re sure, Xavian?” asks my clients, a kind fifty-something couple from Palm Springs.

  “I can’t give you a guarantee where the market is concerned. What I know is that any weakness in the tech and medical sectors tends to be short-lived, compared to, say, retail or housing, which are much more dependent on the economy. If you’re willing to be aggressive, overseas returns can be great. But it’s more speculative. This is really about you two and your risk tolerance. Given your age and financial situation, you don’t have to gamble at all unless you’re looking to grow above, say, six percent.” In their silence, I decide to throw a curveball into the mix. I haven’t officially linked up with Maxon and Griff yet, but… “Unless you want to veer into real estate. You’ve expressed an interest in the past in Hawaii, and I’m in contact with the two most successful agents in Maui. They’re top one percent in the state. If you want tangible assets that increase in value over time—and a great place to vacation or rental income—I can put you in touch with them.”

  Don and Jeanine Hillard talk for a few more minutes and ask some questions, which I answer with ease. I’ve rehearsed this pitch in my sleep. They want to talk with Maxon and Griff, so I tell the couple they’ll be in touch. Once I recap the adjustments to their portfolio we’ve agreed to, they end the call.

  Before I can even take a sip of coffee, my phone vibrates in my hand. A glance at the screen tells me it’s the more outspoken of my sisters. Being married to a super-alpha football god has done zero to tamp down her attitude. It’s one reason I love her.

  “Hey, Harlow. How’s it going?”

  The background noise tells me she’s in the car. “Fantastic! Masey, Britta, and I just left your place.”

  I glance at my watch. “It’s only eleven thirty.”

  “We’re efficient, especially Britta.”

  True. “So Corinne isn’t drowning anymore?”

  “Not in administrative work. Britta handled all the customer inquiries. Masey prepped everything for mailing. Since she works with makeup—also delicate stuff—she knows how to protect the merchandise from the USPS. She even taught Corinne a thing or two.”

  “Perfect. What did you do?”

  “What I do best.”

  “She didn’t need you stirring the pot,” I tease.

  Harlow tsks. “You’re a horrible brother. Just for that, I’m going to tell her all your most embarrassing stories.”

  That’s not an idle threat. Still, I laugh. “You will anyway.”

  “You’re right. Actually, I talked your girl off the ledge, poor thing. She was about to hyperventilate.”

  “Why? What happened?” Corinne was asleep when I left for the office earlier. “Did Parker call?”

  “Thankfully, no. And she wasn’t upset, just shocked. When she opened her emails this morning, she had hundreds of new orders—on top of her existing backlog. Apparently, the photos of your dinner Friday night and the engagement pic you posted Saturday also featured her watch band. It turned out to be sales gold.”

  “I know she wasn’t planning on an avalanche of new orders, but it’s a good problem to have.”

  “Absolutely.” Harlow hesitates. “Honestly, when I first met Corinne, I wasn’t sure about her. She was so quiet—something you’re not—and I thought you would run her over with your…ahem, sparkling Reed personality. Plus, she was nothing like your usual skanks.”

  “Skanks? Are you disparaging your fellow womankind? What about sexual equality and all that?”

  “Oh, I’m not slut-shaming any woman who pursues a man she wants, even for a night. I say, Go get him, girl! If I didn’t, I’d have to castigate myself hard for my college years.”

  The thought of my sister and sex in the same sentence makes me wince. “TMI.”

  She laughs. “I just meant some of those women you slept with during what I guess were your off periods with Corinne weren’t… What’s a nice way to put this? They didn’t have their shit together. They weren’t smart or ambitious. They didn’t seem like they were going anywhere in life. This morning proved Corinne is nothing like that. She was a total boss bitch. She knows her operation inside and out, she has tons of ideas for expansion, and she’s thinking big. Her business plan is impeccable. We were all impressed. And super glad you don’t actually have horrible taste in women, like we thought.”

  I’m not surprised by Harlow’s summation. Corinne is amazing. “Wow, thanks for having such confidence in me.”

  “Oh, you’re amazing with money and you might be my spirit animal since you’re also super sarcastic, but your choice in women… Let’s just say Corinne is a huge upgrade. She’s the gold standard. Don’t let her get away.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I quip, trying not to think about how real that possibility is.

  “I’m sure you know this, but Parker is going to be trouble. And I doubt he appreciated the reports that surfaced last night, hinting that he wasn’t the victim in his story after all.”

  Holy shit. “Where? Who said that?”

  “You didn’t hear?”

  “Corinne and I were busy last night.”

  After our airport run, we settled back at my place for a pizza and a bottle of wine. She’d planned to work, but I persuaded her we needed an early turn-in. I did my best to keep my cock out of her, but I slipped up once. My tongue, however, was another story…

  She was sleeping too peacefully this morning for me to wake her up so I could go to pound town. I was hard as fuck until I got to the office and focused on work, but I can live with that. I was just glad to wake up beside her.

  If that doesn’t sound like a guy in love, I have no idea what does.

  “You’re not even married yet and already acting like newlyweds,” she jokes.

  “You can’t tell me you and Noah weren’t busy before you said I do.”

  “We totally were. That’s why I was already pregnant when we exchanged vows. But he still gets a kick out of knocking me up.”

  “Really…that’s just so much TMI.”

  “Oops,” she murmurs without sounding contrite at all. “Anyway, the reporters who attended your engagement party put out the word. People are talking.”

  Shit. I didn’t see that coming. “But their beat is sports.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You two are big news.”

  I sigh, hoping like hell Corinne is prepared for her brother’s BS, because it’s coming. Then again… “If it’s in the sports pages, Parker won’t see it.” He’s not a jock by any definition. “So that’s a plus.”

  “You really are out of the loop. The guys who came on Saturday didn’t report it to their fans. None of them would have given a crap, especially with college football season about to kick off. But they passed the info on to celeb and pop culture peeps. The possibility that Parker isn’t that innocent made TMZ. Lots of speculation out there now…”

  He won’t take that lying down. “Damn it.”

  “Sorry. If it’s any consolation, Noah called the reporters early this morning and laid into them for not running the story past him first.” She pauses. “He figured if you weren’t spilling your past with Hadley—was that her name?—to the public, there was a reason.”

  Yes. Too bad that doesn’t help. “Tell him I appreciate him trying.”

  “What are you going to do? What’s your move?”

  Good question. If it was merely a feud between Parker and me, I would hunt the motherfucker down and confront him with the video Lisa took of the asshole admitting he fucked my former fiancé. I’d threaten to spread it everywhere unless he shut the hell up and left me alone. But with Corinne in the picture, that’s not an option. I may be spit-balling here, but I doubt she’d be okay with airing all her dirty laundry to the world. And the things Parker said to her were filthy. Horrible. Demeaning. Despite her brother being the bad guy in this scenario, he’s still her brother. She doesn’t want to hurt him, just get him to release her money from his controlling fist.

  “I’m working on it.” But Corinne and I clearly need to talk more.

  It’s my bad that I kept her too busy last night for anything resembling conversation. We especially haven’t talked more about what’s happening between us. The minute we were alone again, I kissed her and we both went up in flames. Other than breaks for food and showers, last night was a repeat of Saturday.

  Which reminds me… I’ve blown through my condom stash. I’ll need to stop at the store or Corinne will be pregnant in two point two seconds.

  That notion gets me instantly hard—and not for the first time. Admittedly, the idea has primal appeal. We’re supposed to be temporary, but no part of my body is acting that way, especially my heart.

  “If you intend to change the narrative, figure it out fast. You don’t have a lot of time. Hollywood loves to build someone up only to tear them down, and Parker is especially vulnerable since the movie wasn’t as warmly received as the book. To a bunch of the filmgoers, he came off like a whining bastard. The film’s Rotten Tomatoes score reflects that.”

  It’s more accurate to say he’s a narcissistic asshole, but I’m splitting hairs. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Sure. If you need any help, let me know. Of all your siblings, I’m the most devious.”

  “I think Maxon and Griff could give you a run for your money.” Evan is too straightforward, Bethany isn’t the underhanded type, and our youngest sibling, Oliver, is only five, so the verdict is still out on him.

  “Pfft. They’re amateurs.”

  Not true, but I laugh. “Thanks for helping Corinne.”

  “It was a pleasure. We’re happy to pitch in again if it keeps her sane.”

  “I’m sure she appreciated it.”

  “It’s none of my business, but is there a reason you don’t want the press to denigrate Parker? If you can discredit your adversary and not have to do any of the bad-mouthing yourself, I’d call that a win-win.”

  “I just don’t want to upset Corinne if I can avoid it. She was pissed at her brother on Saturday night…but they’re family.”

  “You’re in a tough spot.”

  “I’ll take her some lunch and we’ll talk it over, come up with a solution.” Besides, I’m itching to see her. After we figure out a strategy to deal with Parker, maybe we can get horizontal.

  “I don’t think she’ll be there. She got a call as we were leaving. She didn’t say from who, but I got the impression she’s already got a lunch date. Does she know anyone on the island?”

  Not that I know of. If it’s not Parker, who the fuck would be taking her out? “I better go.”

  I call Corinne. No answer. The cycle repeats over the next hour and a half. I force myself to stay on task for an account review with some of Bethany’s clients on Oahu, but the second it’s over, I ring Corinne again.

  She’s still not picking up. Who did she go to lunch with? Why isn’t she answering?

  While worry creeps in, my phone suddenly blows up, buzzing like a never-ending chainsaw. Texts from unknown numbers, followed by phone call after phone call, all of which I decline because none of them are from Corinne. What the hell is going on? I didn’t think paparazzi were strictly Monday-through-Friday people. Why did they wait until today to bug the shit out of me? It’s just after noon, and I’m wishing this workday was over.

  Because you’re fixated on Corinne.

  “Mr. Costa?” Lisa calls, bursting into my office, worry stamped all over her face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She opens her mouth, then frowns. “Maybe nothing.”

  “Let me be the judge.”

  Before she can elaborate, my phone rings again. It’s Maxon. Since he almost never calls me at work, something is definitely up.

  I grab the device. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “You tell me. Did you and Corinne fight? Break up?”

  Why would he ask that? “No.”

  At least not that I know of. She can’t possibly be mad at the note I penned her before I left, telling her to make herself at home and where to find the keys to the SUV if she really needed to go out, which I didn’t recommend her doing alone, given the ugly gossip and her brother lurking in the shadows.

  “Well, all of social media is questioning whether you’re still engaged because she’s with her ex right now.”

  I freeze. That’s who she’s having lunch with? “Riley Stephens is on the island? And they’re together?”

  “So you didn’t know about this?”

  “Nothing,” I bite out. If I had, I would have persuaded her to stay away from him or insisted she take me with her.

  Corinne hasn’t seen this douchebag in how long and now that she’s “engaged,” he’s up in her business again?

  “Get on that,” Maxon recommends. “Image-wise, it doesn’t look good. And I don’t want her to hurt you.”

  That doesn’t exactly calm me. “They’re that cozy?”

  “I’m not there, but the pictures suggest…”

  Fuck. Why would she even see him, much less get romantic after the way he burned her? She just said last night that she didn’t want to get her heart broken again. Corinne having lunch with him now doesn’t make sense. I know social media can lie, so I won’t jump to conclusions or assume the worst. That woman feels something for me. I know it. I feel it in her touch. She’s not the kind of woman to give her virginity to me, then thirty-six hours later get frisky with the fucker who left her.

  “Where are they?”

  “If you go marching in there, that will look worse, like you didn’t know and that she’s cheating—”

  I don’t care. “Where the fuck are they?”

  He rattles off the name of a restaurant I know of vaguely but have never frequented. “But to be clear, the pictures I’ve seen…they’re talking. Just talking. So maybe their heads bent together looks more damning than it is.”

  And maybe not.

  “I’m on it,” I spit out and hang up.

  When I look up, Lisa still stands in the doorway, lingering in a rare moment of uncertainty. “What would you like me to do?”

  “Cancel my afternoon. Text me with emergencies only. Tell Clint I’ll be back when I can.”

  “Of course.” She bustles back to her desk and picks up the phone.

  Thank God I can count on her.

  My only focus now is reaching Corinne. I’m not sure what the fuck is going on, but I’m going to find out.

  As I reach my car, my phone buzzes. It’s a text from her.

  Do you have a minute to talk?

  Where are you? I type back, flinging myself into the front seat of my Audi.

  At your place.

  I tear out of the parking lot, stare locked on the road. But my thoughts are a million miles away.

  This feels too much like Hadley. I was clocking out of my bartending job at three a.m. when I heard the rumors that Parker was still over at our place. By the time I reached our apartment, Hadley was on her knees, sucking his knob. The ensuing blowup was ugly, so while Parker zipped up his pants, Hadley packed her shit and gave me her goodbye speech. It was startlingly unemotional. But that was Hadley. She’d already done the practical calculations. Parker came from money. If she landed him, she’d never go without again.

  She didn’t see his blindside coming until it was too late. After that…I could never trust her. Or Parker.

  Beside me, the phone buzzes incessantly. Paparazzi? More well-meaning family members? I don’t give a fuck.

  Screeching into the driveway, I park sideways, blocking in the SUV. She’s not leaving until we have this out. Then I stomp to the house, slamming my way inside. “Corinne!”

  “In here,” she answers quietly from the living room, her voice quivering.

  My gut torques up. Is she about to tell me to fuck off, too?