I pretend to think it over, pretend I’m not giddy as I hop back onto the bed, drawing the covers up to my chest. But I can no longer pretend that I don’t have any feelings for Cyrus Sui.

* * *

“What. The. Hell.”

I nearly fall out of bed at the sudden slam of the door, the familiar voice that shouldn’t be here. Or wait, no, I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t my hotel room. This isn’t even my bed. I look up, my disorientation fading, blankets tumbling down around me, and find Oliver standing just a few feet away. His bag hangs off his shoulder, his jacket still on, his brows lifted so high they’re at risk of leaving his forehead. On the other bed, Cyrus is also slowly blinking awake, rubbing his eyes.

“Wow,” Oliver says, apparently unable to utter anything except exclamatory sounds. “Wow, wow, wow. Wow.”

“Okay,” I say, checking to make sure that the straps of my nightgown haven’t slipped down my shoulders before sitting up. “This isn’t how it—”

“Wow.”

“Have you recovered yet?” I demand.

“Nope. I may never recover,” Oliver says. “I was not prepared to come back to this.”

“We were just looking over photos,” I say as righteously as I can while very much aware that this scene looks like it belongs to the front page of a tabloid.

Oliver’s brows climb up even higher. “While you were asleep?”

“Before we fell asleep. Wang Laoshi was outside and I was stuck here, so Cyrus gave me his bed to take a nap …” I clear my throat, unable to look at Cyrus without reliving everything from last night, the quiet intimacy of the darkness and the vulnerability in his voice and the odd beat of my heart. “We didn’t expect you to be back so early.”

“I didn’t expect to be back so early either,” Oliver says, shrugging off his bag and leather jacket in one movement, “but it appears my dad’s new driver is a street racer. Or just someone who doesn’t believe in traffic lights.”

“What event did you have to attend anyway?” I ask, hoping to divert his attention from the fact that I’m now climbing slowly out of the bed. “Did your family open up another winery?”

“No, this was for his client’s new art gallery. My dad wanted me there to charm all the guests. Well, supposedly, but the old man gets bored out of his mind at these things so I think he just wanted some company— Hang on.” He narrows his eyes. “Don’t change the subject. What were you two doing the whole night?”