“It’s worth every cent, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does,” she said, smoothing her hands over the front of the dress. “Just keep telling me I’m pretty and it’ll be fine. Oh, and wine. Wine will help.”

Laughing quietly, he let her lead them inside the building. The marble-floored lobby was empty except for a security desk, a beautiful leather settee, and two elevators at the end.

The security guard looked up as they approached. “Here for the Gruber event?”

River’s warm palm came over the small of her back, and every thought in her brain was incinerated. “River Peña and Jessica Davis,” River confirmed, and the man checked their names on a list before programming the elevator from where he sat.

“Head on over to the car on the right,” he said. “It’ll take you straight up.”

As the doors closed, Jess was reminded of the other times she’d been in an elevator with River—the strained silence, the unspoken disdain between them. Going back to that felt like it’d be simpler than this unmeasurable, unmanageable attraction.

River cut into the quiet. “I think I need to clear something up.” Jess looked up at him in question, his eyes fixed on the wall ahead. “About my sisters.”

“Oh?” She had no idea where this was headed, but the pace of the world’s second-slowest elevator suggested there’d be plenty of time to find out.

“They are investors,” he said. “They both put in money at the very beginning of the project. But that isn’t what I meant by ‘invested.’ ” Finally, he looked down at her. “About the cologne.”

Jess bit back a laugh. He was so serious. “Okay.”

“They think this”—he gestured between them—“is very…” He paused, and then gave her a sardonic smile. “Very exciting. But,” he quickly added, “please don’t feel pressured by their enthusiasm.”

Nodding, Jess gave him another quiet “Okay.”

“And I’m telling you this now because up there is waiting a roomful of people who, you already know, are deeply financially invested in how you and I interact, and I don’t want you to go in there thinking that everything is for show.” River reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out his phone. He swiped it awake, opened it to his photos, and began scrolling. Finally, he found what he was looking for and turned the screen to face her.

For a second, Jess had no idea what she was seeing. River’s doofus doppelgänger was her best guess. He was in his early twenties, but his posture read even younger, way less confident.

“Do you recognize him?” he asked.

She was afraid to guess. This scrawny, hunched, mismatched child could not be—

“It’s me.” He swiped through a few more, showing her several photos of the same dorky alternate-reality version of himself.

“Plaid shorts and striped shirt was a real style choice,” Jess said, laughing.

“I moved away from home when I was sixteen,” he said, and the elevator doors opened.