Chapter 1 #2
“Let’s go.” He tugs me out from behind the plant, and I swear my whole body heats under the lights of the dance floor. I sigh and let him drag me. It’s better than causing a scene. One dance. I’ll give him one dance and then I’ll duck onto the terrace and check the perimeter.
Just one is how it starts with him. One game of chess. One dance. One moment of indiscretion. Being around him is like doing drugs. You feel good, and then you want more.
“This is inappropriate,” I mutter as we wend our way through the crowd.
“It’s my birthday and I’ll dance if I want to,” he tosses over his shoulder as he pushes guests out of the way. As usual, Tristan Prince is determined to be the center of attention.
We couldn’t be more different. I’m more comfortable on the sidelines, and he’s only happy if everyone is looking in his direction.
I mouth sorry to the partygoers who turn to me with shocked expressions. The shock only grows when they see my clothes, which makes my face prickle. I don’t want to dance. I want to check the kitchen and make sure no one snuck back there to steal champagne again.
“I hate this,” I whisper-shout at Tristan’s back.
He finally comes to a halt on the edge of the ballroom, near the open French doors.
“You hate dancing?” He adjusts my grip in his. “No one hates dancing.”
We start to sway. “Not dancing. Everyone is staring. I hate being the center of attention.”
He tugs me closer with a hand on my lower back. I wriggle before he can accidentally grab the gun, and he gives me a rueful smile.
“Don’t worry about everyone else. They’re staring at me, not at you.”
I roll my eyes, but he’s probably right.
Everyone stares at Tristan Prince. I stared when I first met him, slightly awed by the golden god before me.
He’s larger than life. Tall, broad, sandy haired and green eyed, perpetually in motion.
He’s the kind of charming that makes you want to bask in his presence.
The kind of good-natured that makes you never want to say no to him.
Every time I’m with him, I feel lighter, like I’m looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, like he’s looking at me through them.
Under Tristan’s gleaming gaze, everyone is special.
Of course people are staring.
He starts maneuvering me toward the terrace, his hand hot on my back and a look of pure boredom on his face. I know that look. That looks says he’s up to something and hiding it.
“Escaping already?”
There’s a flicker of a muscle in his jaw, but he backs me smoothly onto the terrace before he lets me go.
There are guests milling, admiring the gardens, grouped in clusters around the high tables topped with flowers.
Tristan nods at a few, then slips around the side of the house and down a set of stairs to the silent stone patio and the lush arbor covering it.
It will be heavy with grapes come October, but right now it’s a riot of leaves and tendrils so thick they give the illusion of privacy.
There’s no one down here. No lights, no decorations.
Tristan hops up onto the wall. I hop up next to him.
For a long moment we just breathe. Crownhaven is pure magic.
The air smells like flowers and salt. The moon is bright and the ocean sparkles under it to our right.
It’s calm tonight, just a rush of sound that rises and recedes as it hits the cliffs.
“What have I missed?”
I shrug. “Nothing.” If I’m being honest, which I won’t be, because his ego is already massive, Crownhaven was boring without Tristan here. Aiden has Emory, and the twins were gone, and I felt useless and unsettled. I shift against the stone.
“Don’t lie, Bailey. You wasted away while I was gone. You totally missed me.”
I slide him a narrow-eyed glance. His eyes are teasing. His lashes cast long shadows on his cheeks under the bright moonlight.
“Two percent.”
He grins. “Ten.”
I let out a breathless huff of laughter. “Fine. Five. Final offer.”
He bumps me with his shoulder. “Knew it.”
Something eases inside me. It’s good having Tristan back. It feels right. Righter than I realized, like now that he’s filling the hole he left, I’ve just learned it was there in the first place.
Not for long.
That cold knot is still there in the pit of my stomach.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tristan asks, because he’s that kind of guy. He’s irreverent and way too curious for his own good, and he’s never serious when it matters, but he’s also kind. It’s his primary redeeming quality. That, and the ability to make anyone laugh.
I look up into his eyes, and he grins down at me. “I’m good,” I tell him, but it feels like a lie. There’s something uncomfortable pressing on my shoulders tonight, making me itchy. It’s the same feeling I’ve had for a month, ever since we started preparing for the party.
“You sure?” Another bump with his shoulder. Tristan is a tactile person. I’m not. The first time he hugged me, I went stiff as a board.
“Everything is changing.” I force the words out, and his face twists briefly before he smooths his expression.
“Not everything,” he says lightly. “Besides, we have at least a year.”
A year until he has to marry, he means. A year until my best friend is gone.
I nod.
Soon, Aiden and Emory will be gone on their year-long sailing trip. Sienna will be in her residency somewhere. Whit just got a new contract, and he’ll have no reason to come back, and Tristan will be married and CEO of Prince Bourbon.
I don’t handle change well, which is ironic, given that I’ve had to go through so much of it.
I spend my life planning for every eventuality and choosing the safest path.
Tristan is the opposite. He thrives on uncertainty.
He lives to mold the future. The world experiences Tristan Prince, not the other way around.
“We can do a lot with a year,” I say lightly. I don’t want to think about Tristan’s marriage, because it’s an end for me, not a beginning. A catastrophe. A train going off the rails, and I’m certain to be collateral damage.
“Right.” He blows out a breath.
“Tristan.”
We both turn. Aiden, his older brother, is panting and leaning against the house.
His bow tie is loose around his neck and his hair is rumpled.
Emory, his wife, appears behind him, straightening her dress.
I give her a small smile, and she bites her lip and shrugs.
The twins arrive last, first Whit, then Sienna.
“What’s going on?” Tristan looks among his siblings.
“Grandfather is talking about marrying you off.”
Tristan relaxes. “I know,” he says. “We agreed on it. We’re announcing it next week.”
Aiden gives a short shake of his head. “No. He wants to announce tonight. And he wants you engaged by the end of the summer.”