The relief in his expression at my answer took away any doubt. Yes, if for only two more days, I would trust him. “I’m not sure exactly what this means,” I admitted honestly.

“It means tonight you do exactly as I say. Don’t question or overthink it. If you can do that, I promise you more than nice. I promise you a night you’ll never forget.”

Though I felt as though I, Charli, was betraying Alex, the woman I’d worked so hard to be, I agreed.

Nox leaned forward and opened the glove compartment. “First, I want you to slip off your panties and put them in here.”

My eyes must have given me away, because that wasn’t the first demand I’d expected him to make.

He splayed his large fingers under the hem of my dress. “The point of this is that I shouldn’t have to explain. However…” He grinned. “…I seem to make exceptions for you and I’ll do it again, just this once. Take off your panties, as I said, so that I can think about you—imagine you—exposed under this lovely dress. I want to know that as we dine, with you seated in the chair next to me, if I move my hand…” His hand inched higher. “…I have access to you. I want to touch you in plain sight while no one but us knows what’s happening. After we eat, I want to take you by the hand and lead you down the long wooden pier, knowing that you’re aroused. I want to watch your beautiful face as the sea breeze touches what I did. Charli, I’ve taken this as slow as I can…” He reached for my hand and pushed it against his erection. “…I’ve imagined your pussy. Tonight, I want it and since you’ve agreed, I’m going to take it.”

If he’d moved his hand any higher, he’d have found exactly what he wanted. With only his words, I was painfully aroused. That didn’t mean that I could do as he said. “Nox, I’m sorry.”

The sparkle that had been in his eyes only seconds earlier disappeared as his neck stiffened. “I see.”

“No.” I grabbed his hand before he could pull it away. “No, you don’t.”

“What?”

“Nox,” I explained, “I can’t remove something I’m not wearing.”

The look of complete shock quickly morphed to amusement. “Can you repeat that?”

I unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned closer to his ear. With purposely breathy words, I repeated, “I can’t remove something I’m not wearing. You can do everything you said. I’m not wearing anything to stop it, and,” after a kiss to his cheek, I added, “I don’t want to stop you.”

With his large hands framing my face, he stared into my eyes, and I nodded, trying to tell him with my eyes that I trusted him and was being truthful. Somehow our fantasies had become one. A moan filled the evening air as he forcefully pulled me toward him. Our lips united as his tongue probed, willing mine to part. His kiss was mint and whiskey, invigorating and calm. Nox was a walking contrast, a dichotomy of everything I’d known and everything I thought I’d wanted. His unique combination of force and tenderness should be illegal, because with just one taste I was instantly addicted. I scooted closer like the addict I was.

“Damn,” he said when our lips parted. “I’m thinking about forgetting those reservations for table 101,”

I read about table 101 when I’d Googled 333 Pacific. The website said that it was famous for its view and needed to be booked far in advance. How did Nox get that table? Who did he work for?

I wanted the reservation, but I also wanted other things. Tonight was up to him—I’d already agreed to that. Nevertheless, I did my best to sound bold. “If you do that,” I said seductively, licking my bruised lips. “Then I won’t be able to do all the things you mentioned: the table, the seat beside you, the sea breeze.” Saying them made my insides tingle with anticipation.

“No, but I know of other things I want too.”

Rearranging my dress, I sat back into the deep bucket seat. And with a sideways glance, simply stated, “Me too.”

“Oh fuck!” Gravel flew as he threw the car into reverse and spun us toward Oceanside. “To the fastest dinner in history.”

My laugh resonated from deep inside as the sky’s golden hues combined with the purple. I wasn’t sitting in a fancy car. I was floating in the colors, overwhelmed with the euphoria of Nox. I wished I could bottle the sensation and save it for the future. In that moment, I doubted I’d ever feel this empowered and desired again.

THE CONVERSATION BETWEEN Alton, Suzanna, and Bryce stilled when we entered. I held my breath as my mother closed the door.

“Apparently you forgot to check your watch,” Alton said. “Or is it an issue with telling time?”

“What is this—?”

“Five minutes, Alexandria. Five minutes. It seems a college degree has done little for your ability to follow simple instructions.”

“I was told to play nice and be polite to the guests. That’s what I was doing. You’re not a guest and playing nice isn’t in your repertoire.”

My mother stepped forward. “Alton, we’re here now. I realize this is my fault.”

I narrowed my eyes trying to comprehend the conversation. Her fault?

“Yes, Laide, it is, and we’ll discuss that later.”

My mother shifted as she looked from person to person. Both Suzanna and Bryce met her gaze, but in true Savannah style their expressions revealed nothing.

“Would someone tell me what’s going on?”

Mother led me toward the conference table. It wasn’t as large as a corporate conference table, but it was dark, glossy, and ostentatiously regal. It fit in Alton’s office perfectly. There were four leather chairs on each side and one at each end. The ones at the end had arms and resembled small thrones. When I was little it helped to perpetuate my princess theory. It was probably the table my grandfather had and his father before that. Despite the heritage, I hated that table almost as much as I loathed my bedroom. Each time throughout my childhood when I was caught or accused of wrongdoing, my correction began with a family conference at this table. There were three of us—three. Sitting at this giant-ass table was ridiculous. It was part of Alton’s power play, his demonstration of strength. When I was five, it probably worked. By the time I was old enough to understand overcompensation, I found it humorous.

I stopped walking and laughed. I wasn’t five nor was I seventeen. The Spencers weren’t family, and we weren’t discussing my correction. This was pure bullshit.

My forced laughter filled the room. “Are you all out of your minds?” I moved my outstretched hand toward each person. “What is this? I’m not sitting. I’m not doing anything. And if you want me to go back out to those guests—my guests, ha!… If you want me to go back out there and play the dutiful daughter then someone better answer some damn questions.”

“Alexandria—”

“Alex,” I corrected my mother.

“Alex,” Bryce offered. The years of our friendship rippled through the sound of his voice as he said my name. But that quickly disappeared when I looked at him and remembered the rest of our story, after our friendship.

Bryce had grown up well in the past four years. His shoulders were broader, his chin was defined, and his light blonde hair longer than I remembered. It wasn’t too long, but had a slight wave I’d never noticed when we were younger. He was a swimmer at the academy and had always kept it short. Over the past few years, his lean swimmer’s body had broadened. That wasn’t to say he was heavy. The weight looked good on him, or maybe it was the suit. He definitely looked the part of a Montague minion, all the way to his Italian loafers.

“Hi, Bryce.”

He took a step toward me. “I wish we had more time to explain.”

I shook my head. “Explain what?”

“We have a situation, something that you can help with. Something I’d—we’d—like you to do.”