Chapter 92

Kayla

I stared up at Nicholas incredulously as he slipped the key back into his pocket . There was a roguish glint in his eye, as if he knew something that I didn’t.

“What were you doing in there?” I asked, folding my arms tightly over my chest.

“Nothing. None of your business.”

I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes. Already, I could picture what the brazen playboy was up to in there. “Who is it?” I bit out. “Rebecca? Nora? Or another woman?”

Nicholas snorted. Loudly. “Rebecca is a fling from the past that I’d rather forget. I thought you knew that,” he retorted. “As for Nora, when have I ever once indicated even the slightest interest in her? If I had to choose someone around here to sleep with, I would much rather choose—”

I didn’t let him finish. I let loose a small snarl of annoyance and shoved past him. He staggered back as I shoved against him, reaching for the small window of the shed. “I don’t care who you sleep with,” I said as I wiped away a layer of grime from the glass to get a good look, “but now is not the time to be—”

Suddenly, before I could finish speaking or look through the window, Nicholas’s hands were gripping my waist gently but firmly and whirling me away. All I caught was a glimpse of deep purple fabric—a gown, perhaps?—in the shed before he was suddenly pressing my back up against the door, one hand on my waist and the other pressed into the wood above my head.

“For the love of the Moon Goddess, Kayla,” he huffed, his voice deep and husky, “when will you learn that ‘no snooping’ means no snooping?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words would come. Not because of our proximity or the sudden sensation of his warm breath across my neck—although, despite my best efforts to deny it, I suspect that had something to do with it—but because of something else entirely.

A scent. A rather feminine scent.

My nostrils flared as I leaned forward and took a deep, long inhale of his shirt.

“You smell like vanilla,” I whispered, tilting my head back to glare up at him. “Vanilla and… flowers.” I wrinkled my nose and narrowed my eyes. “Whoever she is, she must wear cheap perfume.”

His lip curled almost mockingly. “Interesting. I didn’t know my jealousy was so contagious.” He paused, and his little smirk made my heart stutter in ways I didn’t want to admit. “But no, Kayla, there’s no woman in that shed. Just a whole lot of not your business.”

I frowned, hoping that my reaction to his implication that I was jealous wouldn’t show on my face. Truthfully, my heart was pounding, and I was sure he could hear it from how close he was.

“I’m not jealous,” I said, although the slight waver in my voice betrayed me.

Nicholas’s eyes gleamed. “Is that so? So you’re not just as jealous now as I was when I saw you hugging Noah?”

“I—I don’t—”

No matter how much I tried to speak, the words simply wouldn’t come out. I felt weak and helpless under the weight of his gaze, like he was seeing right through me. It was like every huff of hot air from his mouth reignited that throbbing mark on my neck, like his fangs were sinking into me over and over and over again.

Jealous… I’m not… Am I?

As we hovered close together, Nicholas’s gaze brazenly flicked up and down my body, as if taking in my appearance—the deep blue dress, the shimmering eyeshadow, the silver circlet, the red waves of hair cascading down my back… and most importantly, the freshly red mark on my neck.

For a moment, just a moment, I could sense it—that brief shift in the air. The way his breath seemed to hitch, his long lashes fluttering as he stared down at the mark that he had left.

Feeling strangely confident, I tilted my chin up and to the side to give him a better view.

“That’s the second time you lost control and bit me,” I whispered. “If you hadn’t already marked me the first time, then would you have marked me that time?”

Nicholas stared at me incredulously for a moment, and I hoped he couldn’t sense the erratic thrill running through my body. I didn’t know why I was like this when we were so close, but I didn’t care. Too many emotions were swirling around inside of me to notice my own thoughts. Arousal, betrayal, intrigue, anger, and…

Yes.

Jealousy.

But then, blissfully, Marcus poked his head out of the house behind us and called out.

“First guests are arriving!”

With one last reproachful glance, I wriggled away from Nicholas and made my way to the house. “Let’s go, darling,” I called over my shoulder. “We have an engagement party to attend.”

By the time we made our way into the estate’s grand ballroom a few minutes later, both of our smiles were firmly back in place. Nicholas’s hand rested on the small of my back as we greeted the onslaught of guests, a touch that wasn’t unnoticed by either of us, I was sure.

But it didn’t take long for my smile to turn into something more genuine.

“The decorations are different,” I murmured, looking around at the space.

Indeed, none of the decorations I had picked out were here; the ceiling was strung with shimmering silver and gold drapes, with matching balloons swaying gently from the rafters. Long tables were lined with clean white tablecloths, flickering candles, and delicate glass centerpieces that shone in the light like crystal balls.

A band was playing against the far wall, and the buffet tables were piled high with decadent food, everything from roast quail eggs to rich chocolate fountains. Waiters bustled about with trays of champagne, wine, and other drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and Nicholas grabbed a couple of flutes of champagne and handed one to me.

“Yes, well, the decorations you picked out the other day were utter shit,” he said matter-of-factly as he sipped his drink.

My cheeks flushed, and I couldn’t seem to come up with a quip in response to that. He was right. I hadn’t exactly put my best foot forward when we had been planning this party, and yet he had ensured that it looked like a picture-perfect feast.

But then my heart turned more sour. Because no matter how nice this was, it was all fake. All of it. The glittering gowns, the dancing guests, the pile of engagement gifts in the corner.

This party wasn’t real. This wedding wasn’t real.

And my birthday was tomorrow, and yet I was here, wearing a ring on my finger and a mark on my neck that was a constant reminder of the fact that I was all too quickly falling for a man who…

“You’re scowling.”

The sound of Nicholas’s voice pulled me out of my brooding, and I quickly snapped my gaze up to meet his. He looked concerned.

I schooled my expression and shook my head. “Just thinking.”

“I told you, there was no one in that shed with me,” he said, his voice softer now, almost… tentative. “What do I need to do to prove it?”

“Go back in time and not forget my birthday,” I suddenly blurted out before I could stop myself.

My eyes widened as the words slipped out, and I clamped a hand over my mouth. Nicholas blinked at me, his fingers tightening around his glass. I half expected him to look surprised, and yet also half expected him to laugh in my face and tell me to get over myself.

But I didn’t expect him to snap his fingers.

I didn’t expect him to say, “Who said I forgot?”

And I certainly didn’t expect the biggest, most decadent-looking cake I had ever seen to come out of the double doors behind him.