I went to take a big mouthful of my drink, but it was already empty. Had I chugged it that fast? Corin is making me nervous, I can't help it. “Abell is... something else.”

“Do you hate him?”

My eyebrows flew high at the abrupt turn this conversation had taken. “Hate him?”

Corin stroked his palm over my coat in his arms. “You seemed appropriately offended when you learned your fate. I guess his reputation precedes him. I'm sorry about these circumstances, Miss Halloway.”

I couldn't control the sarcasm in my tiny smile. “Are you? You could always call the wedding off, burn the contract.”

“No,” he said, his voice rich with a darkness I didn't understand. “I'm afraid if you want Halloway Inc, you're stuck with my wreck of a son. You'll be married to a man who cares about nothing but wasting the money we both earn on whores and alcohol.”

Blown away by his insult, I squeezed the stem of my glass. Abell had told me he didn't get along with his father, but for the man to callously tell me that his own son was a mess, it was shocking.

Everything Corin is saying about him is stuff I've thought.

Even with that fact, it bothered me that he could speak so poorly about his own son.

So no one around us would hear, I whispered, “Were you always such an asshole to him?”

My polite facade had fully melted away.

Corin paused, his fingers curling around one of my coat's buttons. I feared he was getting ready to tear it off. “Do you approve of his history, his habits, Miss Halloway?”

Rocking side to side, I frowned. “No, of course not.”

“Could you ever see yourself loving a man who chooses his obscene, selfish desires over your own happiness?”

The room was pleasantly warm, and still, a cold chill swam through my blood. “I... no, never.”

Was I crazy, or did Corin smile like he was actually happy? “I'll go put your coat in the check-in area, it'll be waiting for you when you leave. Enjoy yourself tonight, Miss Halloway.”

And that was it, our weird as hell conversation was over.

Staring after Corin, I forgot my drink was empty and took a sip of air. Unsatisfied, even irritated, I looked around for one of the woman with trays. What the hell was that all about? Corin was disturbing me with how confusing he was being.

He knew my mother... but wouldn't say how.

He slandered his son in front of me, all while mocking how I couldn't escape the contract.

If the man was auditioning for the part of a super villain, he was one nuke away from getting it.

Spotting a girl with more drinks, I started to move through the crowd. I didn't get far before I locked my knees, a gap in the busy room revealing a couple standing by the wall.

It was my mother.

And she was with Abell.

Ducking to the side, I willed myself to act normal—to not be spotted. Why are they talking? Were they just making conversation?

Peering at them, I noted how sharp Abell looked in his rich, plum colored vest over a white button-down. The contrast helped define the width of his shoulders. He'd peeled the sleeves to his elbow, not shy in exposing his elaborate tattoos.

The combination of class and casual reminded me of a rock star. In a way, I guess he was one—or pretty close.

A rich, rock star player, I mused, stringing together all of his qualities. Recalling what his dad had said about him, my guts knotted tight.

I didn't know how to feel. Abell was a player, but his dad was a monster for pointing it out. For calling him a fuck up.

The things Abell had told me when we'd sat and eaten ice cream together on our surreal shopping trip, they became clearer. I understood why he'd run away from the pressure his dad apparently put on him.

After all, I thought, squinting at my mother, I've experienced the same thing.

Abruptly, he leaned in, listening to something she was saying. His smile, even yards away, turned my heart into a jet engine.

He looked so good when he did that, like he had a secret he wanted to share, and he'd tell you... for a price.

Abell turned away from her, weaving through the crowd—right at me.

Shivering, I snatched a full glass off of a passing tray. He hadn't spotted me yet. However, before I could dart away and get my bearings, his sapphire stare locked on me.

That wicked grin was as good as a bear trap.

“Nix,” he said, stopping inches away. “I thought we'd agreed you'd be wearing mistletoe.”

I waved down at my dress. “Amazingly, I couldn't find any, so I had to use this as a substitute.”

Clicking his tongue, he tapped his breast pocket, pointing out the sprig of mistletoe he'd stuck there. “It's your lucky night, I have some right here. Let's get you into the back, see how it looks.”

Smiling helplessly, I swirled my glass. “One sprig isn't enough to make me decent.”

“Exactly,” he whispered, bending closer. His breath tickled my throat. “That's the whole point.”

The flutters in my belly turned into hot waves of pressure. Abell had taken away any comeback I could have tried. Looking away, I sipped the champagne. “What were you and my mother talking about?”

“She offered me a handjob for fifty dollars. I turned her down.”

Spitting my drink out, I caused people to turn and stare at me. Cupping my mouth, I coughed hoarsely.

Laughing, Abell grabbed a napkin from his pocket, offering it to me. “Guess you liked that one.”

Wiping my face, I blushed wildly. “She'll kill you if she learns you said that.”

Inside, I was still giggling.

“You'll have to protect me from her, then.” He winked, then grabbed my drink from me, finishing it off. “Want a tour of this place?”

Pulling my lower lip in, I ignored how he'd stolen my champagne—my liquid courage. “Sure. That'd be better than trying to make conversation with strangers. Who are they all? Friends of your dad?”

“Friends?” Abell made a wide gesture with one arm. “People with money, connections, power. The kind of mercenary scum my dad loves associating with.” His eyes flared, but he was quick to smile at me. “Come on. I haven't been back here in eight years, I'll try not to get us lost.”

“Eight years?” The heels of my ankle boots scuffed over the polished floor as I followed after him. “Why so long?”

“Have you met my father?” Chuckling, he held open a door for me. I stepped through into a quiet, carpeted hallway. “I stopped living under his rule when I was sixteen.”

“That's so young! Where did you go? How could you even make it on your own?”

Closing the door, he strolled down the dimly let hall, his voice softening. “The truth isn't that impressive. My dad never denied me access to his money. I've had a credit card in my name this whole time.”

I offered him a slanted grin. “That's not exactly the bold, 'going your own way' plan I'd expect from you.”

“You think I'm bold?”

Heat spread over my cheeks. “It's a word that suits you.”

Abell turned the corner, a circular room stuffed with books opened before us.

“Wow!” I gasped. “There's so many!” In the center of the ceiling, a glass window let in the midnight haze of the sky. Gazing up at it, I noticed a graceful staircase that led to a polished door. “What's in there?”

“Nothing,” he said, rounding on me. “It's an old closet.”

Weird place for a closet. Spinning slowly on my toes, I went back to studying the shelves. “It's beautiful in here.”

“Beautiful is a word that should be reserved for... better things.” His eyes sucked up the low lights, blue centers shifting with shadows.

I hadn't realized there was a bookcase behind me, not until he stepped forward, causing me to retreat into it. When my spine tapped the thick novels, I went stiff. “Why are you looking at me like that?”