I leaned back, crossing my arms, and letting a slow smile spread across my face. I didn’t know if this was the wine talkingor the moody lighting, but the question came out smooth and confident. Like it’d been waiting at the tip of my tongue all this time and was eager to finally be on its way out.
“We should get married, don’t you think?”
As he held my gaze, I saw his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. He looked into his wine for a beat, drained the entire fresh glass, then he looked at me again and his lips curved into a dangerous, deliciously devilish grin.
“Actually, I think that’s a great idea.”
Oh, God. He’s going for it? Really?
I’d known from the moment I’d met him that Harrison Westwood was trouble, but right now, he was exactly the kind of trouble I was dying to get into—and to have getting into me.
CHAPTER 9
HARRISON
Igroaned before my brain had even fully booted up. Sunlight stabbed through the blinds like tiny knives, and I was half hanging off the couch, my poor, loyal sectional doing its best to hold me up.
I squinted through the haze, trying to figure out what kind of disaster zone I’d woken up in. A pillow smacked me square in the chest. “I said wake up, sleeping beauty!”
A yelp I would’ve been embarrassed of if I didn’t have the hangover from hell tore out of me and I flopped backward. “Ow. Was that really necessary?”
Aurelia was darting around my living room, her hair a little mussed, her sleeves half-rolled up, and honestly, she looked like a gorgeous, hungover tornado high on caffeine. My eyes trailed to the coffee table.
Three empty wine bottles, a collection of glasses, Some with lipstick marks. Some without. My brain filed that under “probably not responsible adult behavior.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t wake me up!” she rushed out, bending over to scoop something off the floor. For just a beat, I had a glorious view of her ass, so full and round, like a juicypeach, then she straightened up again and shot me a bleary-eyed glare. “Do you even know what time it is?”
She paused mid-sentence, glancing at the sun blazing through the windows. “Oh, my god.”
I rubbed at my eyes, sitting up slowly so as not to anger the tiny ice-picks in my brain too much. “What happened last night? Did I propose?”
“Technically, no,” she said, shooting me a look I didn’t quite know how to process. “Iproposed toyou. There’s a difference.”
Before I could even begin to formulate a response, the front door opened and then she was gone, still pulling one of her heels as she disappeared. I sagged back against the couch, staring at the ceiling in the hopes that some of the answers might be written there.
Last night was a complete blur. All the wine, the candlelight, that ridiculous conversation about arranged marriages and portfolios, and now, apparently, she’d proposed. To me.
I let out a long, slow whistle. “Well, that escalated faster than expected.”
Somewhere deep inside me, though, a grin spread despite the pounding in my skull. Because if last night was any indication, Aurelia Van Alen came with the kind of chaos I could get very, very addicted to.
After a few long minutes, I realized I probably had to get going myself and finally forced myself up. I’d only just slid the empty bottles into the trash when my phone rang. Naturally, I was hungover after spending the night with the daughter of her arch-rival, so CC had decided to check in with me.
“Good morning, baby,” she cooed through the speaker. “Are you ready for Christmas shopping in New York next week?”
I groaned, sliding hand over my eyes. “Do I sound ready? I’m still trying to remember my own name.”
“Don’t even worry about remembering anything. I’ll take care of all the arrangements. All you have to do is show up at the jet,” she said, in full maternal-babying mode. “I’ve got this. We’ll shop, we’ll eat, and we’ll survive another holiday. You’ll love it. You always do.”
I squinted around the kitchen for anything resembling pain relief. My head throbbed. My stomach protested. I finally found a crusty bottle of Tylenol lurking behind the toaster. It’d probably expired back when I was still in college, but I pried the bottle open and let the pills slide into my palm.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’m planning on going. Maybe,” I mumbled, squinting at the instructions like they were ancient hieroglyphics. “Depends if I, uh, if I have to work. I’ll check with Sterling.”
“Oh, Harrison, you don’t have to think about work. You’ve got me, remember?” CC cooed again, and I felt my resolve melt a little.
God, I really did look forward to these trips, even if I pretended otherwise all year. My mother had always wanted a daughter, a little girl to drag along on these things. Three times, she’d tried and failed, and as a result,Ihad to go every year. It’d been our tradition ever since I’d been a kid.
I winced, popping the Tylenol and hoping I’d taken enough. “Okay, Mom. Yeah, you got it. Hey, I’ve been wondering about something. I met this girl, Aurelia, and?—”
