Abell had turned to stone, doubt contorting in his face. “You are?”

Nodding, I held up a hand. “You want your money, I want my company. I just have one condition.”

“Go on.”

Lowering my voice, I bit off the words. “No. Sex. Ever.”

His forehead crinkled dramatically. “In general?”

“Between us!” I hissed, clenching my fists. “It'll be a sham marriage, get it? We'll do it on paper, but nothing else. It's the only way I'll agree to it.”

“Didn't my father also demand I knock you up? Do you have a sham baby in your pocket, too?”

My throat went dry as old toast. “We'll tell him we're trying, when we aren't.”

Scratching at his cheek, he asked, “What if I say no to your one condition?”

“Jeez,” I laughed, “Do you  want to sleep with me again that badly?”

He smiled, saying plenty with just his eyes.

Blushing furiously, I mumbled, “This is the only way I'll go along. I'm not going to subject myself to becoming someone's whore. I'd give the company up before that.”

“Ouch.” Touching his hand over his heart, he sighed. “You make it sound like sleeping with me is a punishment.”

“Just tell me you agree to my terms.”

Abell looked down his nose at me. He was quiet, making me wonder what was going on behind his stoniness. Finally, he gave a tiny shrug. “When you beg me to fuck you, do I still have to resist?”

My mouth fell open. “I'd never beg you to fuck me.”

“You will.” His smirk could cut diamonds. “You definitely will. And when you do, my stipulation is that... I won't hold back.”

A flutter crept through my body, building a home between my thighs. I squeezed them, ignoring how good the pressure felt. “You've got me all wrong. I'm not that desperate.”

He gave me a long, intense look.

Breaking away, I said, “I already told my mother I was going along with the marriage.”

Abell tilted his head, as if viewing me in a new light. “She'll let my father know, I imagine. Guess I don't have to spill the good news to him.”

“Then we're done here.” Yanking out the list my mother made, I confirmed the time slots. That eager, cautious woman... she'd actually set up a meeting with a florist today. “I have an appointment to get to, see you later.”

He pushed off the wall. “I'll come along.”

Stumbling, I shot him a confused stare. “Why? It's just looking at flowers.”

He hunched closer to me, I could hear him inhale. “Who knows, you might need a second pair of hands.”

It took all of my strength to stop staring at his mouth. Grabbing my phone, I called for a private car. “I don't have the time to argue with you.” I need air, I need it now!

Marching out the front of the building, I shielded my eyes from the sun. In mere minutes, a shiny black car pulled up against the curb. In my rush to escape Abell and all he represented, I opened the door, practically jumping inside. Phew, I thought in relief.

I'd just buckled myself in when Abell slid into the backseat across from me. I stared at him in disbelief. Grinning, he clicked his seat belt. “Are you going to shove me out of the car?”

My driver twisted around, offering me a look that said he didn't know what to do, but would listen to my instructions.

I shut my eyes tight. “I'll wait until we're in the middle of moving traffic before I kick you out.”

Abell's laugh was low, scratchy—real. It was the first hint of something genuine beneath his surface, and it threw me for a loop. “You're staring at me,” he said.

“Sorry.” I focused on anything else but the man sitting beside me. Don't get fooled by him. He's a player, that's all.

The driver turned us onto Main street, taking us quickly towards the flower shop. It was a tiny building shoved onto a corner across from the mall, the front of it covered in painted vines and actual flowers.

I slid from the car so fast that I banged my forehead on the edge of the roof. “Ow!” Cupping the tender spot, I winced.

“You alright?” Abell asked, hurrying to my side.

“Yeah. I just banged it, nothing major.” Lifting my eyes, I stood still as an ancient tree. Abell was leaning over me, his fingers pressing against my skin next to my injury.

The concern in his stare left me baffled. His magnetic pull demanded I not look away. Brushing my hair back, he said, “Looks like you'll have a small bump. Does it hurt?”

The thumping of my heart was so loud, it blocked the rush of passing traffic. I struggled to make sense of what was happening. Abell was being so sweet, I was spiraling into a confused bubble.

Just answer him!

I said, “Um. No, it's okay. Just a little sore.”

His arm fell, leaving me tingling where he'd touched. “It looks kind of red. Well, all of you looks red right now, actually.”

Coughing, I spun around and walked stiffly into the shop. “L—let's get going!” Fuck, I fell apart just then! But his caring vibes had been too much for me. Was he playing with me, pretending to be concerned?

The air was humid inside the store. Water spritzed from hanging pipes, plants glowing in bright greens, reds, and so much more. “Hello,” I said, spotting a woman behind a tiny counter. “I need to pick out flowers for... a wedding.”

Saying it out loud had me fidgeting.

“Ah,” she said, rounding the counter and approaching me. “Are you the lucky bride?”

Pursing my lips, I peeked at Abell. “Lucky isn't the right word.”

The clerk was oblivious to my sarcasm. “Well, look around and help yourself. You'll find we have flowers perfect for any event.”

I wondered what kind of flowers you picked for an arranged marriage.

Something morbid, I thought with a smile. Did they have black roses? I'd have to look.

Abell, who'd been rather quiet, reached out to cradle a hanging vine. “I didn't realize we were picking flowers for our wedding.”

“My mother insisted I get it done quickly,” I mumbled. “Apparently, a month to get ready isn't much. Who would have thought.”

He grinned, fingering the long vine so it coiled around his hand. “Cheer up, how can picking out flowers be depressing?”

I gave him a flat look. “Flowers aren't my thing. Do you have some tricks to make it fun?”

“Oh, I have tricks.” He tugged the leaves, then stroked them obscenely. “I don't think the florist would appreciate me using them on you.”

I turned away before he could get a reaction out of me. “I'm ignoring that comment.” Unzipping my coat because of the humidity, I moved down an aisle. “Help me find something... weddingy, I guess. I could just pick white.”

Abell followed me, his hands spreading his jacket wide, flapping it. “White would be boring. You want something more vibrant, ideally to match the dresses of your bridesmaids.”

I stumbled, staring back at him. “First, I won't have any bridesmaids. Second, I didn't peg you for a guy who knew about complimentary colors.”

He placed his palm to his chest, making a face. “Art runs in my blood, give me some credit.”

“I met your father, I wouldn't call him 'artsy.'”

Abell's fingers clenched just slightly, but I caught it. “It's on my mother's side.”

The edges of his usual smile had cracked. Had I touched something sensitive? Eager to push this awkward tension away, I clapped my hands. “Alright, Art-Master, what flowers would look best?”

“For the wedding? Not a clue. But this...” Abell leaned close to a blue tulip, tapping it. “This would look gorgeous in your red hair. You have a fire in you, a cool color like this would enhance it.”

His comment lacked the crassness he'd been indulging in since we'd first met. Seeing him like that, bending close to a fragile flower, eyes warm and welcoming...

Why is my heart beating so fast?

He pulled on one of the most wolfish grins ever. Like an animal, he stalked forward, his hand dropping away from the tulip. He whispered, “There it is, in your eyes, the fire I was talking about.”