“No more cars in the driveway,” he continues, as I try to yank my thoughts back to reality. “And I just signed the invoice for the car park company. I think we can safely call this thing a wrap. And a success.” His smile is slow and easy and undeniably sexy. “It really was one hell of a party.”

I laugh. “I was just thinking the same thing.” My stomach does a little twisting number, and I tell myself it’s hunger. After all, champagne isn’t that filling, and I’m sure all the dancing I did during the night burned off the three slices of wedding cake I’d devoured.

I’m lying again, of course. It’s not hunger that’s making my stomach flutter. It’s Ryan. And as I stand there silently wishing he’d just touch me already, I’m also getting more and more irritated. Because why the hell hasn’t he touched me already? We’ve spent time together. We’ve even danced together during various club outings with friends. Not touching, maybe, but close enough that the air between us was thick with promise.

And once, when Damien had a security scare, he sent Ryan to check on me. I’d been wearing a tiny bikini with a sheer cover-up, and I looked damn hot. But he hadn’t made a move. We’d ended up talking for hours, which was great, and I even made him eggs, which is about as domesticated as I get.

I’m certain I haven’t been imagining that sizzle between us—and yet never once has he made a move. I can’t fathom why, and the whole situation grates on me.

Except I’m not supposed to care—Ryan is not part of The Plan.

On behalf of 1001 Dark Nights,

Liz Berry and M.J. Rose would like to thank ~

Steve Berry

Doug Scofield

Kim Guidroz

Jillian Stein

InkSlinger PR

Dan Slater

Asha Hossain

Chris Graham

Fedora Chen

Kasi Alexander

Jessica Johns

Dylan Stockton

Richard Blake

BookTrib After Dark

and Simon Lipskar