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I turn around. Her eyes focused on the floor.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Cancer. He’s dying.” I squeeze her hand. “That’s why I’m engaged to Esther. It is his last wish to see me settled down before…”

This wasn’t how I envisioned this evening going.

I brace myself for the barrage of follow-up questions, and the pity so many give when they learn of my father’s condition.

She doesn’t speak, wraps her arms around me, and holds me tight. I tense at first but sink into her embrace as she caresses my back. No judgment or questions.

I hadn’t wanted to expose this part of myself. But Gemma had to understand why I’m engaged to Esther. Why I have to make my father’s dying wish come true, even if it means being engaged to someone I don’t like.

This is the only way she’ll stop fighting what’s between us. The only way she’ll realize and understand why I’m doing what I’m doing.

“How are you feeling about it?”

I shrug. “It is what it is.”

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You think I had a choice? Although I should be thanking you for playing along so seamlessly.”

She ducks her head, cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry for stepping in like that and lying about being your fiancé. I didn’t mean to over—”

Acting on impulse, I cut her off by cupping her face and crashing my lips against hers. She makes a muffled sound of surprise before melting into the kiss. I walk us backward until her back hits the wall, pinning her there with my body.

Breaking the kiss, I murmur against her lips, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, my gem.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

I place scorching kisses along her jawline. “Because the sight of you flustered is fucking irresistible.”

“That’s not a very good reason.”

She whimpers as I nip at the sensitive spot below her ear.

“Isn’t it?” I grind my hips against hers, letting her feel how hard I am already. “You’re telling me you don’t get off on this? On me claiming you as mine in front of my father?”

She blinks up at me, lips parted. I have to resist the urge to kiss her again.

“But... your father thinks…”

“That you’re my fiancé? Not Esther? So what?” I shrug. “He likes you better. And so do I.”

Gemma’s fingers tangle in my hair, holding me against her neck. “You’re an arrogant asshole.”

“I never claimed otherwise.” I suck a mark into the crook of her neck. “Now, are you going to be a good girl and keep quiet? Or do I need to find a better way to shut you up?”

She’s mine. Propriety and engagements be damned.

Chapter 17

The aroma of garlic, vegetables and herbs fills the kitchen as I chop everything into pieces. The knife slices through a bell pepper with crisp snaps.

I can’t stop thinking about last night with Elijah and his father. A dying man’s request to see his son happy—that’s some deep shit. Those pale, sunken cheeks and the desperation in his eyes to believe his son has found love before...

I shudder, the knife slicing through an onion with too much force.

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