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“I like cars.” He takes the lead once again, toward a sleek, black contraption that looks like something Batman would drive. Specks of light from above dot the polished black exterior like stars across the night sky--fitting for Lucian.

“Do you, um … have a costume hidden somewhere? Like, only pull it out when the signal goes up? What even is this car?”

“A Bugatti Chiron. One of the fastest, most powerful cars in the world.” He opens my door on the black leather duet of seats and shiny chrome interior.

The only two-seater I’ve ever been in belonged to Griff, one of the local fishermen who gave me a ride home from the library, when Aunt Midge got tied up at The Shoal one night. He’d removed his entire backseat to fit all his gear, because he couldn’t afford a truck.

I’m almost afraid to sit down in this thing, but I slide into the seat. Like sitting in a cockpit, the leather practically hugs me, and it smells as if it’s never been driven in its life.

Lucian falls into the seat beside me, his eyes immediately darting to my exposed thighs. The only reason I opted for the airy dress, one of a few that Amy left at the Manor, is that it’s supposed to get up to eighty-seven degrees today, and I can’t bring myself to risk sweaty thighs and pit-stains on my first official outing with the guy. The dress is cool and lightweight, and I’m only going to The Shoal. It’s not like any of the regulars there will even notice, and if they do, Aunt Midge will surely bop them upside the head.

His gaze lingers for a moment, the two of us sitting in silence, until he shakes his head. “Sticking toothpicks in my eyeballs would be less tortuous than trying to keep my hands off you in that dress,” he says, firing up the vehicle, the sound of its powerful engine echoing in the garage.

I turn away to hide my smile, pressing my knees together at the warmth he’s stoked between my thighs.

A wall ahead lifts, revealing an inclined road, and when he drives forward, my head hits the seat behind me, and I remember that I forgot to strap my seatbelt. Once I’m clicked in, I settle into the cool leather seat, as he drives toward the gate.

“You look and smell incredible,” he says, not looking at me at all, as if refusing to do so.

“As do you.” Outside my window the massive stretch of lawn, with its broken fountains and unkempt hedges, takes me back to my first day here, when everything felt dead and abandoned. I’ve since found it doesn’t matter that it’s midday, the manor always carries a dark and gloomy aura. And yet, it’s strange, how in the thick of all this decay, I’ve never felt more alive.

“There’s a gift for you in the glovebox.”

Frowning, I glance toward it and back. “For me? Why?”

He jerks his head that way. “Have a look.”

I open the compartment to the small, but telling, blue box tucked inside. I may have grown up in a small fishing community, but even I know a Tiffany box when I see one. “Lucian … what did you …”

“Open it.”

I flip the box open to a gorgeous bracelet inside. Two thin chains, that I have to believe are white gold, link to either side of a large, princess-cut diamond. It’s breathtaking, and probably cost more than everything I own combined. “Oh, my God.”

“Put it on.”

Sucking my bottom lip, I shake my head. “I’m afraid.”

“It’s yours.”

“What if I break it?”

“Then, I’ll whoop your ass until you bleed.”

I snap my gaze toward him, frowning, until his stoic face breaks into a chuckle.

“I’m certain the company that makes these things are quite capable of fixing them when they break.”

“Yes, but you said we were strictly sex. Buying me gifts doesn’t sound like filler. It screams plot to me.”

“I’m not following. What’s filler?”

“It’s like ... in romance novels, when the main couple do things together that doesn’t really move the plot forward. Just kind of fattens the book.”

“It’s a bracelet, Isa, not a ring. Please. Put it on.”

Fingers trembling, I one-handedly latch the bracelet onto my wrist. A month ago, it would’ve looked out of place on me, ridiculous even, but paired with my dress, it almost seems fitting, aside from the tattoo just below it. The most beautiful and delicate thing I’ve ever been given. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You like it, then?”