“I think we’re all where we’re supposed to be.” Preston found my hand under the table and linked our pinkies. A happy shiver ricocheted up my spine.
“No, Delilah is right,” Carter said. “I should be seated next to my wife-to-be. You look amazing, baby.”
“Blow it out your shorts.”
He laughed uproariously over Hazel choking on her sip of painted roses. “All the couples that last say the key is never losing your sense of humor.”
“What do the couples that last say about shotgunning your bride down the aisle? I have a feeling that puts a damper on the long-term prospects.”
The two of us hadn’t talked since that fated night in the ocean. I couldn’t get what Carter said to me out of my head. That we were a tragic love story. It played on a constant loop and the phantom touch of his strong arms beneath me added to my maddening confusion.
Did he mean anything he said that night, or was it more crap to reel me in? He said he wanted me back, but how could that be true after what I did to him? I knew where we stood when he was bullying and torturing me, but this...?
This was even worse.
“Actually, the divorce rate for arranged marriages is four percent,” Carter said. “Good news for us.”
Carter was truly gifted. Not just for his ability to put on a black suit covered in red hearts and reduce nearly every man around him into a clown playing dress-up, leaving him the only one standing as king, but those crystal-chipped eyes and wicked smirk made real that if any head was coming off, it was mine.
“Is that true?” Mila spoke up. “While couples who choose each other sit at fifty percent? Doesn’t give much hope for love.”
“Don’t say that,” Delilah replied. “I’d rather take the chance at real bliss than spend the rest of my life with someone I don’t care enough about to leave.”
“Would you?” she challenged.
On that note, we picked up our forks and started eating. The community built its future on arranged marriages and making the right connections. What could any of us say about it?
I polished off half my chicken and had enough. “We’ve gotten too quiet,” I said. “This should cheer everyone up. I have a surprise coming.”
“Surprise?” Delilah repeated. “I didn’t approve any surprise.”
“It’s a surprise for you too. Think of it as a thank-you for picking up the slack while I was out.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “What did you do?”
“It’s good, I swear. It’s the final touch this party needed.”
“What this party needs is dancing.” Nathan held his hand out to me. “May I?”
I hesitated, looking around. “Should we?”
“One dance wouldn’t kill us.”
I want to even if it does.
Nathan was a freckled masterpiece in a bloodred suit. It clung to him in all the right places with bespoke precision above my level. Putting clothes on this man was an honor worthy of hanging your painting in the Louvre. Until I earned it, I’d be happy I was the one who got to take his clothes off.
On the dance floor, Nathan spun me out and reeled me in. I bumped against his chest, laughing. “Nice moves, Prince.”
“You’d know.”
I linked my fingers behind his neck, marveling at the way our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. “You said my gift was creative threats. Yours is making every comment dirty.”
“I take great pride in that.”
“How did the call with your mom go last night?”
“It was supervised like I’m a damn inmate,” he gruffed, “but she was happy telling me about a book she’s reading. The colonel didn’t pull any crap and try to cut our talk short, so I guess I should be thankful.”
“You shouldn’t be thankful of that man for anything. He created the problem and then grants a small reprieve like he’s doing you a favor. It’s what narcissists and manipulators do.”
Nathan brushed his lips over my cheek. “Let’s not talk about him. You’re mind-blowingly gorgeous in that dress and all I want to think about is a certain promise to screw my brains out.”
I smiled into his shoulder. “I’m ready to make good on that when you are.”
“What are we still doing here?”
He raced off, dragging me along, and I pulled us up and wrapped his arms around me again.
“Slow down, Prince.” I rested my forehead against his. “I like this song.”