He’d thought he’d done Eden a favour by showing up in a boring suit and talking with every relative she had. But when had Eden said she wanted him to make a good impression?  She had tattoos. She did drugs. He should have taken her upstairs and fucked her on her childhood bed. That’s what Derek would have done. No, a Pre-Mara Derek would have fingered Eden behind the marquee, then gone and shook her dad’s hand. You want to piss off your parents, baby? Done.

But it was easy for Derek, he had sleeve tatts and half his family was in jail. He didn’t give a fuck. Willow tried not to give a fuck, but he was school captain. Parents liked him. People invited him to garden parties. He gripped his forehead.

Such a fucking square.

He watched Eden collect another glass of champagne. How many had she had? Whatever the body count was, she was holding it like a champion. She was a trooper and she’d offered him a chance to prove himself her ally. Instead, he’d proven the exact fucking opposite. He walked up to her and took her arm. Her skin was icy cold. “Baby, you need a jacket.”

“Oh hi,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “Having fun?”

“Not one bit.” An idea occurred to him. A stupid, amazing idea. He took her hand. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“To my car?”

She frowned. “What are we doing?”

“Something no one will approve of.”

14

As she and Willow made their way through the party, Eden did her best to smile. The corners of her mouth felt like concrete. She always got like this around her family. Numb. The only new thing was the awareness that she was numb. In the old days, she’d go home after Easter, accidentally scratch her thigh on a nail and not feel it. Now it was like a flat grey worm living in her chest.

So, everyone loved Willow. That wasn’t surprising. He was wholesome, played professional sport and, it turned out, had an aristocratic background. She’d sensed who he was the night they met, felt it when he first kissed her in that closet.

Of course, her parents approved of him. She was lucky Sienna was already engaged or her parents would be pushing her to marry Willow.

Miserable, she allowed Willow to lead her out of her old front door and into the yard where Teslas and Audis were parked in formation like rich person Tetris. He kept walking her toward his car. “What’s your safe word?”

Eden frowned. “We’re not going to…?”

“What’s your safe word?”

“Neon.”

“Good. Remember it.”

Eden’s heart raced, shifting the grey matter in her chest. Surely, Sloan Williams, the belle of her family ball, wasn’t suggesting what she thought he was?

They arrived at his Mercedes.