Page 61 of One Wealthy Wedding

“I know,” I say. Coupley sounds dangerous. A great way to get too close to Cat and be disappointed by her all over again.

“I’d rather staple my fingers together,” she says, looking pained.

My mouth tugs up. “I’d rather go without sex for a year.”

“I don’t think that’s medically recommended.”

“I might die,” I say, laughter bubbling up inside me.

“I’ll be waiting,” she says sweetly.

The laugh escapes, and Cat grins.

“It’s a good idea,” she says. “You’re right. Much as I hate to admit it.” She sighs. “I’ll show you the list when we get home.”

“Want to add another thing and check it off?” At her suspicious look, I say, “Something small. I promise. We need couple activities, remember? This is one of my favorite places.”

21

Cat

I’m yawning when we pull up to a soaring Midtown hotel. Theo takes one look at me and tells his driver that we’ll be getting the items to go.

“Wait here. Don’t fall asleep.”

He climbs back in just minutes later, after passing Daniel a large bag to put in the trunk.

“What was that?” My curiosity is piqued, even though I’m tired.

“Dessert.” His eyes are gleaming with excitement. “My favorite. There’s a fantastic pastry shop inside this hotel. It’s open all night, and everything they make is delicious.”

When we get back to the house, he unpacks little gold boxes with pink ribbons and foiled packets with elegant script.

“Did you buy the whole store?” I ask when it’s all laid out on the kitchen island.

“I bought one of everything.” He’s examining the spread with arms crossed, like a warrior deciding what to attack first. “You didn’t eat dinner. Are you hungry?”

“I had some canapés. I’m not hungry. It was too unsettling seeing my father.”

“Unsettling? You looked fucking terrified. I thought you were having a panic attack.” Theo’s eyes are concerned when he looks at me.

“It’s okay. I was just…surprised.” I gesture for a spoon. “I don’t want to talk about my family. Tell me about your unhealthy fascination with dessert, please.”

“It’s the best part of a meal. Some people live to eat, and some people live to eat dessert,” he says cheerfully. “Come on, princess. Don’t you want to live?” He tugs on the lid of a gold box, and it twists open, unfurling like a flower until a single perfect pink cake is displayed.

The cake is beautiful, glazed in ombre that lightens near to white and darkens nearly to red. Gold lines cross the top. This is exactly the kind of thing I would have been denied living in my parents’ house. The thought makes me pause and set the spoon down on the table. Once on the lips, forever on the hips. Good girls don’t misbehave. You know better than to play with the Archer boy, Catherine. He’s beneath you. If you don’t want him punished, you’ll go to your room with no dinner. I press my palms to my eyes. I haven’t thought about these things in a long time.

“What’s wrong?” Theo asks softly.

“Bad memories,” I say. “I don’t think I can. I don’t need any cake, Theo. It’s okay,” I finish lamely. He’s been kind to me these last few weeks, but dessert feels like forbidden fruit, and he’s the snake in the garden of Eden. Don’t reach for too much, Cat Peterson.

He shrugs and digs into the cake. It’s pink and white on the inside too, and the scent of lychee wafts up to my nose. He sucks the spoon between his lips, and an expression of pure pleasure crosses his face.

“I can’t let you miss this.” He drops onto the stool next to me and scoops another big bite. “Open.”

“I’m not a child.”

He presses a thumb to my bottom lip, tugging at the flesh, fire in those green eyes. “Open, princess. Or I’ll make you open.”

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