Liam Olivia stares at me for a long time, her eyes and cheeks glazed with tears. Maybe she
really does want to marry the bastard despite all the pain he’s brought her. Disappointment
slides between my ribs and stabs into my heart, but I squelch it. This is about what she
wants. At least she looks pretty with the white gardenias. “No one’s given me flowers since
Mom passed away,” she murmurs. I ache for her. What kind of asshole can’t even buy her
something as basic as flowers? They’re sold everywhere, and she deserves all the flowers in
the world. It takes a lot of control to ke ep my hands at my sides. I wish I had the right to
reach out, dry her tears and kiss her pain away. I should’ve looked her up earlier, before
she met Tyler. But I felt like I needed to build my empire first, to make myself into someone
worthy and impossible to ignore. But I missed my chance. And now my effort seems as futile
as trying to catch a plane after it’s taken off. I ignore the knot tightening in my belly. “Hey,
you want to try something super awesome?” I ask. Her eyebrows pull together as she
considers. “You sound like a perv offering candy to a little girl.” But her lips curve slightly.
“Do pervs often show up in tuxes, holding flowers?” She laughs, and I smile in response.
The sound is shaky, but it’s a first st ep. “No.” She studies me for another beat, then holds
out her hand. “I guess not.” My heart stops for a full second before it races. Swallowing
hard, I wrap my large, callused hand around her soft, delicate one and gently help her up.
“Let me drive you.” “My car—”
“I’ll bring you back here later. Or have it brought to your place, whichever you want. Cool?”
She hesitates for a second, then nods. “Okay.” I grin, my heart soaring like a bird in the sky.
I lead her to the Spectre, and she cocks an eyebrow at the gorgeous midnight blue Rolls.
“No wonder I didn’t hear anything.” “My car is the strong silent type.” She gives me a wan
smile. I open the door for her, and she slides onto the baby-butt soft ivory leather. Once I
shut the door and get behind the wheel, we become enclosed in a world of our own, cut off
from everyone. She glances at the blue crystal baby-grand piano hanging from the rearview
mirror. “Do you play?” “No. But I know someone who does.” I look at her, my mind
conjuring up a memory of her at Stanford, playing Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue arranged
for piano. She probably didn’t know anybody was listening as she swayed to the rhythm and
her fingers danced like fairies over the black and white keys. “Nice.” From the way she
nods, I know she doesn’t understand that I’m talking about her. But it’s to be expected. I
didn’t make my presence known back then. I drive to Himeko—a fairly new Japanese-style
parfaiteria. I’ve never been, but so many people have raved about it—especially Max, who
fell in love with their chocolate parfait. I park, then stare at the line snaking around the
corner, torn between relief and annoyance. It’s been a few months since it opened, so
people shouldn’t be waiting forever to get in. At the same time, this place must be
incredible. “Damn,” I mutter. “I don’t mind. The day is already so sweet with flowers and a
genuinely nice guy, who’s going to buy me candy. Or something like that,” she says, her
beautiful eyes crinkling a little. I smile. “This genuinely nice guy also has some skills. Watch
me work my magic.” I speed dial Jeremiah. “Did you hit somebody?” Jeremiah says drolly on
the third ring. “Any fatalities, or just some blood?” She never ignores calls from the family,
especially when they’re from me or my brothers. She bills a kidney and an ovary every year
to take good legal care of us.
“Very funny. Hey, can you hook me up? I heard Akiko has her own table at Himeko.” “Of
course she does. She’s one of the main investors. But I’m just a lawyer, and this isn’t
billable.” I roll my eyes. “Are you for real? It’s Rhys who didn’t invite you to his wedding,
not me.” “Are you saying you’ll invite me, should you get married?” “Of course. You know
how I feel about you, Jeremiah. You’re like the mom I should’ve had!” She snorts. “I
wouldn’t have you as my son if you begged. No Harvard ambition. Therefore no dedication
to the Huxley legacy.” Damn right. Because writing legal briefs that meet her standards is a
M ephistophelian torture reserved specifically for serial killers. “Fine. Just tell Marco that
Akiko sent you.” She hangs up. I put my phone away and escort Olivia past all the people
who stare at us, some annoyed, some curious, probably wondering where they’ve seen us
before and why I’m so overdressed. “Is Marco here? Akiko sent us,” I tell a tall Asian girl
manning the door. She doesn’t bother to check her tablet or anything, just gives me a once-
over. “This way.” She gestures us inside. “See? It’s like magic.” I wink at Olivia. She laughs.
“Yes, pure magic. Good job with the open sesame, Aladdin.” The mouth-watering scent of
chocolate and sugar hits me first. The place is bigger than it looks from the outside, but
somehow still manages to appear cozy. Perhaps it’s all the little Japanese dolls everywhere,
all of them in gorgeous silk kimonos. Knowing the kind of expensive taste that Jeremiah’s
sister-in-law Akiko has, I bet they were created by some celebrated craftsmen in Japan
whose families have produced dolls since the Edo era. The tall round table facing the
window is just big enough for two, but I like that it isn’t too big. I pull a stool with back
support out for Olivia, and she sits with a smile and a thank-you. The server hands us a
huge laminated menu. Before I can study it, my phone pings. I check the screen. –Jeremiah:
You can get whatever parfait you want, but Akiko says you must get the apple tea. It’s
probably something completely impractical but
very fancy because that’s just how she rolls. Enjoy your date. The advice tugs at the corner
of my mouth. Jeremiah grumbles about billable hours, but she can be surprisingly nice when
she wants to be. Olivia’s eyes follow a waiter carrying a tray of three giant parfaits. They’re
bigger than melons. “Wow. Those things are huge,” she says. “So? You deserve it.” I search
the menu for the chocolate parfait that Max rhapsodized about. “Nothing like world-class
chocolate and sugar to cheer you up.” Ah, there it is. The Deutsche. Damn. It has something
like twenty-five layers of chocolate. Are there really that many different kinds? I steal a
quick glance at Olivia. Will she like them all? “I’ve never been here. What do you
recommend?” Olivia asks, tapping her chin. The solitaire ring from Tyler blinks on her
finger, somehow odiously offensive. Forget the ring. She’s here. With me. “It’s my first time,
too, but I’d say the Deutsche. Heard that it’s the best.” “Then that’s what I’ll get. Want to
share? These things are really too big, and I don’t want to waste any.” I start to nod—
“Actually, never mind.” She shakes her head. “You should get what you want. You like
raspberries and cream, don’t you?” Her index finger rests on a different item. My eyebrows
lift. I don’t recall having anything like that in college... at least, not around her. “I do, but
I’m happy to split a chocolate one with you.” I smile warmly to reinforce the message. She
hesitates for a moment, then nods slowly. “Okay. I appreciate it,” she says, sounding almost
shy. When the server returns, I order one Deutsche parfait to share and two cups of apple
tea, like Jeremiah suggested. It doesn’t take long before he lays everything out on the table.
The Deutsche looks fancy, with multiple layers of various chocolates in various textures,
from white to milk to dark, and from cream to meringue to small curled shavings. The apple
tea, on the other hand, is a bit... disappointing. Slices of red apples arranged into a ball
inside a white porcelain cup. I guess you ste ep
them and the water tastes like apple...? Since Akiko recommended it, I thought it’d be much
cooler and would make an impression on Olivia. Although I made the offer to marry her, she
hasn’t given me an answer yet. I want so badly for her to say yes even if she isn’t sure.
Given a chance, I can prove myself, over and over again, if necessary, until she’s sure
enough to go through the ceremony with me. Have to be honest with myself, though... If the
answer had been a yes, she would’ve said so. The fact that she changed the topic means she
doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. Which is disappointing. But I’m not going to let that
bother me so much that I can’t enjoy the moment with Olivia. The waiter pours hot tea into
our cups, his movements practiced. I cast a slightly bored eye at the tea... but then, as the
heat hits them, the apple slices begin to unfurl like a blooming yellow rosebud edged with
red. Olivia stares, riveted, her mouth slightly parted. “That’s gorgeous,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say, my eyes on her soft expression. Okay, fine. I should get Akiko a nice
Christmas gift. Olivia tilts her head, raising her eyes to mine. “This is...” She exhales
shakily. Suddenly there are tears clinging to her lashes. My chest tightens, and I clench and
unclench my hands. “Uh... If you don’t like it, we can go elsewhere. I shouldn’t have
assumed you’d want to have chocolate. I just thought you would because you seemed to like
the Belgian truffles—” The skin around her eyes starts to redden. Dread floods me like a
ten-foot tsunami. Stop babbling! “This is perfect, Liam.” A tear falls from her eye. “But
you’re crying.” Her soft pink lips curve into a trembling smile. “Because I’m happy.” She
sniffles a little, the sound inexplicably delicate. It makes me want to wrap my arms around
her. The panic recedes. My heart finds its rhythm again. I pick up an elongated silver spoon,
scoop a long, curling sample off the top two layers of the parfait and bring it to her mouth.
She acc epts it, her tongue darting out to lick a bit of cream in the corner of her mouth. Her
eyes narrow to slits as she takes the time to savor the flavor. I await her verdict. A smile
breaks out over her face, like the sun peeking over the horizon at dawn. Cheeriness
sparkles in her eyes, and she
seems to become divine—a goddess sent to Earth to walk with the mortals. “Feeling
better?” “Much. Thank you. That’s... amazing.” She looks into my eyes, like she means I’m
amazing, even though I know better. The tips of my ears burn. I clear my throat. “Told you.”
She takes a slow sip of the tea, watching me over the rim of the snow- white china. “Liam?”
“Yeah?” “How serious were you about volunteering to be my groom?” The question makes
my heart skip a beat. “Very,” I say promptly. She inhales as though bracing herself for
something difficult—almost insurmountable. As seconds tick, anxiety twists my gut into a
tight knot. Finally, she nods. “Okay,” she says in a voice so soft I can barely hear it over the
music. “What?” “I acc ept”—she bites her lip briefly—“your offer to be my groom.” I almost
drop the teacup. The hot fluid spills over and splashes onto my slacks, but I barely register
the heat. Olivia hands me a napkin. “Are you okay?” And then, after a moment: “Did you
expect me to say no?” “I... wasn’t sure.” I wipe the tea off on autopilot, not caring about my
pants. “You seem so hung up on Tyler.” “I have my reasons.” Like what, I want to ask, but I
push my curiosity aside when her shoulders droop a little. “This marriage is going to be
unfair to you,” she whispers. “It won’t be about love.” I drop the napkin and look at her, my
gaze unwavering. “I know. It’s okay.” I’ll bring love enough for both of us. She tries to
smile, but it fades before it can reach her eyes. “You deserve better.” “So do you.” I pick up
the spoon and feed her more chocolate, hoping it puts some light back in her eyes. “My
lawyer is Prescott Huxley,” she says after taking the bite from me. “Mine’s Jeremiah
Huxley. Well, she handles everything for the family.” I shrug.
“Hmm. Their being siblings will be a conflict of interest when we go over prenups and
contract terms.” She purses her mouth. “I have some unusual demands that you should get
a lawyer to review.” I shrug again. “Ask me for anything. It’s fine. I won’t say no.” She
shakes her head. “Don’t agree until you see the exact terms. Otherwise, I’ll feel like I’m
taking advantage.” You can take all the advantage you want. But I ke ep that to myself, since
she can’t stop turning the ugly ring on her finger, the gesture growing quicker and jerkier.
“I can get a different lawyer,” I say. She shakes her head. “No. I’ll get a new one.” “But you
like and trust Prescott, don’t you?” “Of course.” “So ke ep him. There are plenty of lawyers
for me to choose from.” Gratitude glimmers in her eyes. “Okay. But promise me you’ll get a
shark mean enough to take a bite out of Prescott.” “Deal,” I say calmly, even though my
heart drums a beat of triumph in my ears.