“I was just looking around,” I explain as he continues down the hall toward me.

“You were snooping,” he argues.

I lift my chin. “It’s not illegal.”

When he reaches me, he peers around my shoulder, his chest nearly brushing mine. “Have you found anything interesting?”

I open my mouth to tell him yes, but then I realize yet again, we’ve found ourselves in dangerous territory.

“You should go back up to the party.”

There, I’ve acted exactly as I should.

It’s Emmett who doesn’t listen, Emmett whose eyes narrow as he steps closer.

“Why?” he presses.

I search for a response beyond divulging Victor’s suspicion about us. I don’t know why I go mute rather than admitting the truth of our situation. Perhaps I’m worried about how he would respond to the rumor; a barking laugh could feel as searing as a knife. Deeper than that though is a heavy reluctance to continue to push Emmett away. I put up a good fight this morning, acting as if I wanted nothing to do with him, but it was just that: acting.

The truth is, I want him here. Maybe that’s why I slinked away from the party in the first place, so he could find me, though I’m careful to not delve deeper into that thought.

In the end, I settle on something bland.

“Because it’s inappropriate for us to be down here alone together.”

There.

He looks less than concerned about propriety. “You’re already bending the rules…now, tell me what you’ve found. Judging by the upper deck, I’m sure it’s insane. The whole place is filled with ancient relics.”

This is the moment I might come to regret later. Rather than making one last-ditch effort to resist him, I give in.

“There’s a bathtub that looks like it could be made of solid gold.”

His eyes alight with mischief. “Can’t be. It’d weigh too much.”

“I swear it. Come look.”

I lead him back to the main suite’s bathroom, and he stands beside me as we stare down at the truly heinous tub. It’s Liberace’s dream.

“It could be,” he says, tilting his head in wonder.

“See?”

“How many people do you think could fit inside it? It looks huge.”

“Get in and we’ll test it,” I say, already stepping in, mindful of my short hemline. If he catches a glimpse of something he shouldn’t as I climb over the lip of the tub, he has the good sense not to let me know.

I take a seat and stretch my long legs out before me then look up at him expectantly. He hasn’t moved.

“What?” My question is full of mock innocence.

“I was wrong about the size. You barely fit.”

“Not true. We’ll both fit, easily.”

“I don’t think you realize how tall I am.”

“I do.” Then I reach out for his hand. “Now come on. Don’t be such a chicken.”

He rolls his eyes but still allows me to tug him into the tub. There’s no clumsy climbing on his part. He steps in deftly then lowers himself down and takes a seat across from me. At first, we’re crammed, and I’m worried he’ll gloat about being right. Then he takes my ankles in hand and lifts them up so he can settle down beneath them. Finally, he rests my legs up on top of his.