I march around the corner and find her sitting on the sofa. There’s no freshly fucked glow, repressed smile, or fake contrition on her face. Unlike Hadley that fateful night, Corinne is pale and shaken.

  My anger drains out, quickly replaced by concern. I reach her in a handful of steps and crouch in front of her, taking her hands in mine. “Did that bastard hurt you?”

  Her gaze bounces to mine. Surprise fills her dark eyes. “You know?”

  “That you had lunch with Riley? It’s all over social media.”

  She presses a hand over her gaping mouth. “Oh, my gosh… I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I’m used to being nobody and I was so stunned when he called…”

  I care less about our scheme and how her luncheon looked to the world than I do about Riley upsetting her. Did she even want to see him?

  “When?”

  “This morning.” It clicks. He must have been the person calling as Harlow, Masey, and Britta left my place.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “I saw his name come up on my phone, and I was shocked. I didn’t think it could truly be him. I hadn’t heard from him in over a year. And suddenly…there he was, calling to tell me he’s on the island for something work-related and that he wants to see me.” She swallows. “To explain and apologize.”

  Isn’t the timing really fucking convenient? I’m calling bullshit. Almost no one comes to the island for anything work-related, especially in the financial sector. The fucker works in New York City, the economic capital. What could possibly be on Maui that would further his career? Nothing.

  He came here for Corinne.

  Because he had another change of heart?

  “I tried to reach you for two hours, to find out what the hell was going on. Why didn’t you answer?”

  “I-I forgot to charge my phone last night. When he called, I was working. After we hung up, I plugged in my phone in the office and went to shower. I forgot to take it when I left.”

  Her story is plausible. I kept her too busy last night to bother with anything practical.

  Which begs the question… “Why did you meet him?”

  “I wanted closure. I never got it. Or at least I didn’t feel like I did. The excuses he gave me when we broke up didn’t really explain.”

  “Did he have a different story today?”

  She nods, her brow furrowing as she seems to gather her words. “That he’d gotten scared. He knew I wanted to get married and have children, and he wasn’t ready. He said he didn’t think it was fair to waste my time when he didn’t know how long it would be before he was.”

  “And he’s ready now?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “But I’ll bet he gave you some indication.”

  She bites her lip. “Not in so many words, but he hinted…”

  Of course he did, the fucking bastard.

  His story is crap. Or maybe I’m just convinced of that because this fucker seems shady, moving in on Corinne again while she’s “engaged.” He doesn’t know it’s fake. Unless… “Did you tell him our engagement isn’t real?”

  That snaps her attention back to me. “Of course not. But he kept asking if I was happy.”

  I blanch. “What did you tell him?”

  “Very.” She presses her lips together, looking near tears. “You’re obviously angry and—”

  “You should have told me you were going to have lunch with this asshole. I could have come with you. We could have created a completely different public narrative. But you waited to tell me until it was over.”

  “I apologized for having lunch in public. It was stupid of me. But I wasn’t going to interrupt you at work for my personal stuff.”

  Maybe, but I don’t think that’s the only reason. “You didn’t want me to hear your conversation.”

  She fidgets and looks away. “I didn’t. Our breakup was humiliating. I was afraid the explanation would be equally mortifying.”

  I want to be furious. I want to rip off this son of a bitch’s head for hurting her. I want him to stop sniffing around my woman.

  But she’s not really mine.

  And her rationale sounds real. I need to take it down a notch.

  “Where did you leave things?”

  “He asked me to forgive him. I told him I did and that, if he wasn’t ready for marriage, I’m glad he didn’t go through the motions and change his mind on our wedding day or something equally awful.”

  “Did he ask to see you again?”

  She hesitates, and I know I’m not going to like her answer before she even opens her mouth. “He said he’s on the island indefinitely for a special project and doesn’t know a soul, so he hoped we could meet again.”

  So that’s a yes.

  Now I’m even more suspicious. Sure, it’s possible he heard Corinne planned to marry someone else and realized, if he still wanted her it was now or never. But that scenario feels awfully convenient.

  Ever think that’s your jealousy talking?

  My inner monologue needs to shut the fuck up.

  “How did you answer?”

  “I said I’d have to think about it. Seeing him was…” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how to process it.”

  I’d really fucking like to know. Did she miss him? Is she still drawn to him? Does she fucking love him?

  My agitation isn’t helping. I need to calm down. Corinne isn’t a player, and I can’t let my cynicism run away with my mouth.

  “I’m sure it was a lot.”

  She nods, still seeming slightly off-balance. “I don’t know that we could ever be friends.”

  Because he burned her? Or because she wants more from him?

  I quash my urge to ask what fucking hotel he’s staying at so I can pay the asshole a visit. That would make me look weak—both on social media and to Corinne. I can’t appear threatened.

  But something is coming. I feel it.

  “Why?” I insist. “Tell me why you can’t be friends.”

  Before she can answer, Lisa’s ringtone peals between us. She wouldn’t call if it wasn’t an emergency.

  Cursing, I yank the device from my pocket. “What?”

  “You need to do damage control now. Parker Emerson is all over social media, claiming that your engagement is off and that his sister will be marrying Riley Stephens.”

  By ten that night, I’m speeding down the highway in my sleek two-seater Audi, gripping the wheel like it’s Riley Stephens’s throat. The son of a bitch should have stayed in her past.

  Beside me, Corinne is quiet, staring pensively through the windshield. She’s hotter than I’ve ever seen her look. Hell, hotter than I’ve ever seen any woman look.

  “We’re almost there.”

  She bites her lip. “Is all this really necessary?”

  You’re fucking right it is.

  Gripping the wheel even tighter, I mentally grope for a more measured response. “It’s wise to control the narrative. Or your brother will.”

  “It just feels like we’re looking for a fight.”

  That’s not Corinne’s nature. I appreciate that about her, and if I could fight this battle alone, I’d be happy to. But tonight is one instance where we can’t let bygones be bygones. If we’re going to control the story about who Corinne is marrying, we have to do it together.

  Parker is spreading lies, and the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced he’s behind Riley’s sudden reappearance. What I don’t know is if Corinne’s ex is a co-conspirator or an unwitting accomplice. Whatever. Fuck them both. Parker is hoping to break us up.

  I’m going to do everything in my power to shut him down.

  No one is taking Corinne from me. This has nothing to do with revenge and everything to do with holding on to my woman.

  There, I admitted it. Corinne Emerson belongs to me.

  Now I have to convince her that what I feel is real and that there’s something potentially lasting between us.

  “All we need to do tonight is drink, dance, and have a good time. You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to confront anyone.” If any of that needs doing, I’ll handle it.

  “And I appreciate that, but all this effort just to go out… And the reporters?”

  After Lisa laid the bad news on me, I called Maxon and Griff to discuss strategy. I knew my oldest brothers were underhanded, but damn… Their impressively ruthless sides came out and they weren’t playing. I’m fully on board.

  Then Harlow saw Parker’s “announcement” online and started fuming. She and Britta, both impeccable dressers, frequent the same upscale clothing store. My sister called the owner, Jennifer, who appeared at eight sharp with a collection of dresses, shoes, and undergarments, perfect for a killer night out.

  Corinne tried on everything. For this occasion, I selected the outfit that instantly made my eyes pop and my cock hard. Jennifer called it an asymmetrical mini-cami dress. It’s metallic, in a shade so dark it’s almost black…but not quite. The gentle gathers in the fabric pull toward the middle and show off her small waist and womanly hips. Her cleavage bursts from the V-neck that’s anything but subtle, accentuated by a sleek silver chain that knots in the hollow of her throat, then dangles a shimmering length right between her lush tits. The slit above her thigh is cut nearly to her hip. The hem extends a scant couple of inches past her ass. On her dainty feet are a pair of strappy silver heels that wrap around her ankles and scream fuck me now.

  The ensemble cost me an ungodly amount of money. I don’t fucking care.

  After Jennifer’s departure, Harlow and Masey magically appeared, makeup kit, nail polish, and styling wand in tow.

  While my sister and her bestie began the beauty works, I looked over the social media images of Corinne lunching with Riley. Slick bastard. If I have anything to say, he won’t be touching her again. At best, he’s indecisive and insensitive. At worst, he’s in league with Parker and up to no good. Either way, he’s my enemy.

  Since I need to understand his motives, I called Owen, the PI. It took me less than two minutes to shift his investigative focus from Corinne to Riley. “I want to know everything—what he had for breakfast, the last time he got laid, the tightness of his sphincter. Don’t leave anything out.”

  Since Owen is nosy, ruthless, and cash-motivated, he jumped on my demand. “Give me twenty-four hours.”

  So while he gathers information, Corinne and I will do some much-needed damage control.

  In the passenger’s seat beside me, she looks drop-dead gorgeous. Soft curls brush her shoulders while her pouty red lips shred my self-control. No doubt, we’re going to get a lot of attention tonight.

  We need it.

  “What about the reporters?” I try to sound calm.

  “Are they really necessary? Are we going too far? Pushing back too hard?”

  “If we don’t, your brother controls public perception.”

  “Does that matter? Don’t I really just need to convince him that our engagement is real?”

  She’s not wrong, but she’s also not a fighter. I have to tamp down my impatience and my viciousness to explain.

  I squeeze her hand. “Princess, Parker knows me. He knows the only way I won’t fight back is if you don’t mean anything to me.” Actually, if I don’t shove it down his throat with my fist until he gags on my knuckles, he’ll know I’m not committed to her. “So, we have to put on a spectacle. The reporters have their friends on standby to help our appearance trend on social media. If we don’t, your brother will dig in his heels even more. And you’ll never get your money.”

  Corinne sighs. “I know you’re right. I wish I could just call him and make him see reason, but he seems beyond that.”

  He is. And so am I.

  This is war. I’m not taking any prisoners, only leaving casualties.

  “Fighting this battle is why you came to me to start with,” I remind her.

  But in the back of my head, I know Corinne and Parker are fast approaching the point of no return—and that I’m driving the car at breakneck speed, gunning for a head-on collision.

  I’m just not sure who will be standing when everything is said and done.

  “I did,” she concedes. “I just need to wrap my head around all this.”

  She’s silent the last few minutes of our drive. I sense her nerves jangling. She knows the stakes. She understands the gravity. I wish I could take that from her, rather than putting her on display and adding fuel to the fire.

  Parker’s fucking bomb made that impossible.

  Finally, we arrive at one of the island’s swanky hotels. Their bar is the hopping nightlife spot, where locals and tourists rub elbows—and other body parts. Since it’s a Monday night, Noah and Harlow announced their appearance on social media to help us swell the crowd with partiers seeking a glimpse of the home-grown hero. They tagged Corinne and me, too. I’m ready for whoever shows up.

  As I help her from the car and the valet drives my Audi away, my phone dings. “Harlow says they’re here.”

  “Good.” Corinne looks incredibly nervous.

  I scan the crowd spilling out from the bar and onto a hazily lit lanai. Samantha James’s “Breathe You In” is thumping. The drinks are flowing. The club-goers are milling around, seeing and being seen. The environment is ripe.

  “Relax. Let’s give these people a show.” I take her hand.

  Corinne wraps her fingers around mine and nods. “I’m going to need a drink.”

  “I planned on it.”

  At the door, there’s a line of people waiting to get in that wraps halfway around the building. It surpasses the usual weekend crowd. Good. Word will travel fast with multiple corroborating sources.

  As I nod at the bouncer and bypass the line, thanks to Noah, I usher Corinne inside and scan the darkened room with flashing multicolored lights and swaying bodies, searching for familiar faces, especially Parker’s.

  “Come on, you motherfucker. Let’s tango,” I mutter under my breath.

  The crowd parts for us like the Red Sea. Women stare. Men eye-fuck Corinne. I keep a tight grip on her and lead her to the VIP table in the back corner, where Harlow and Noah are already holding court. As my brother-in-law signs autographs, my sister rises to hug us both. I order a round for the table from a passing server and sit, anchoring Corinne to my side with an arm around her waist.

  The crowd watches. I feel their eyes. The way Corinne shifts nervously beside me tells me she does, too.

  Noah leans in. “You braced? Shit is going to hit the fan.”

  “One-hundred-percent.”

  “What about Corinne?” He nods her way as the server sets down our drinks.

  “She doesn’t like it, but she knows it’s necessary.”

  “Then put a smile on her face fast and make the first move while you have people’s attention.”

  “That’s my plan.” I lean toward Corinne again and drop a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Drink up, princess. We’re going to dance.”

  She turns, eyes wide. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “Hence the drinks.” I toss back my shot and watch as she consumes half of her French 75.

  As she licks her lips, my libido kicks in. I pull her closer. “Kiss me.”

  Normally, I’d just take her mouth. It’s right there. But refuting Parker’s claim that she’s marrying Riley is easier if Corinne initiates.

  Her gaze darts around the room. “Everyone is staring.”

  “That’s the theme of the night. Kiss me.”

  My explanation makes her more nervous, not less. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  Because she’s too modest? Because our engagement isn’t real? Because she wants Riley after all? “What’s the problem?”

  “When we start kissing…I lose my head.”

  That makes me grin. “Perfect.”

  She rolls her eyes, downs the other half of her drink, then takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. You’re right. I came to you for help in fighting my brother for what’s mine. You’re doing what I asked. It’s not your fault this is uglier than I imagined. I need to put on my big-girl panties, stop worrying about Parker’s feelings, and do what needs to be done. I just can’t fathom why my brother would make an announcement that’s so untrue. Riley and I only had lunch—”

  “Parker is using your ex and the situation because he’s desperate to get you away from me.” And I have a sneaking suspicion that Riley has ulterior motives that dovetail with her brother’s, but I’ll keep that to myself until I can prove it.

  She shakes her head. “Even from a distance, he’s trying to control my life. Is he ever going to accept that I’m an adult who knows her own mind?”

  “Unless you make him see it? No. If you want out from under his thumb, you have to draw clear boundaries and stick to them.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to suggest she give us a try for real, move to Maui—and in with me. We can figure us out while I protect her from Parker’s attempts to tear her down. I’ll help support her business and give her all the time she needs to fall in love.

  This isn’t the place for that conversation, and she’s too agitated to consider it now.

  “My brother’s guidance when I was younger and our grandparents were getting too old for the responsibility of raising a teenager made sense. But now it’s crazy. And insulting to my intelligence.”

  “It is.” And I’m proud of her for realizing it.

  As the server walks by, I gesture for two more drinks. Harlow and Noah, wrapped up in his fans again, decline a second.

  “Okay. We’ve got this. Let’s do this,” she says to herself as much as me.

  Her self-pep-talk is adorable.

  “I’m right beside you, princess. You look incredible. Now kiss me. I’ll take it from there.” Doing tonight’s dirty work will be my pleasure.

  She bites her lip. Our eyes meet, hers searching. Then she leans in and brushes a kiss across my lips.

  It’s light, sweet, and exploratory. Still, she sets me on fire. I need to keep my fucking head on straight…but every time she touches me, she does something to me I’ve never felt and can’t explain.

  Hauling her closer, I slant my mouth over hers and take the kiss deep. Her arms creep around my neck. I hear a little moan. I sink into her.