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“Eric?” I repeat, starting the engine. The AMG starts with a low, authoritative growl—something a Nardo Grey RS6 wouldn’t stand a chance against.

I’m being petty.

“Eric and Wowdi.”

“Eric and Wowdi,” she repeats.

I shake my head, but the smirk stays firmly on my lips.

Eric sounds like an absolute dickhead.

His loss.

The drive to the Greenwich estate is a slow but beautiful torture.

I try to keep my eyes on the road, but I am very aware that less than two feet to my left there is a lethal slit in her dress that I can’t stop looking at. I want to reach out, slide my hand below the silk and feel her warm skin underneath.

She is leaning slightly toward me, talking about some book— a romance novel that she picked up from a bookstore near the Academy. Her hands move as she describes the tension and the heartbreak.

I have no idea what she is actually talking about. Whatever those characters are up to, I couldn't care less, but I am hopelessly hooked on every single word that leaves her mouth.

This version of her, the one sitting right next to me, the unguarded, sharp, passionate side she never lets herself be in public, that is what I was looking for. Every carefully aimed comment, every mocking ‘Bow-Peep,’ every calculated dig over the last year was because I wanted to tear down that meticulously planned, perfect façade and see the real girl underneath.

For the first thirty minutes of the drive, the frantic energy in the car gradually shifts into something deeply intimate. The dashboard lights cast a soft, ambient light in the car, and the low hum of the twin-turbo V8 fills the space between us. Every time I shift, my knuckles brush against the silk of her dress—a constant reminder of her presence.

Eventually, the concrete highway gives way to winding, darker roads, leaving the city behind as towering trees welcome the wealthy Greenwich suburbs.

“Is it much further?” she asks.

“Nearly there.” I glance over at her, taking in the elegant profile of her face before pulling the car to a massive gated driveway. “We’re about to officially enter the lion’s den, Bow-Peep.”

I slow the car as we approach the iron gates. They are exactly as I remembered them—massive and imposing with the elaborate Thorne crest pressed into the center panel at the top.

Ellise leans forward in her seat, her breath catching. Her mouth forms a silent and perfect ‘O’ as she looks up.

“This,” she whispers, her voice laced with disbelief, “is where your family lives?”

“It is one of our houses, yes.”

“One?”

I shrug, offering a faint, bitter smile at the question, not wanting to dive into a discussion about the multiple properties that the family owns. I am well aware of how this looks to her. She glances at me, but I keep my eyes anchored on the heavy gates as they groan open.

We crawl down the half-mile private road in silence. Engineered lawns roll out either side, manicured hedgerows conceal the tennis courts, and the private stables are visible through the trees. Eight acres of curated exclusivity purchased by my father ten years ago as a statement after my mum’s death rather than an actual home. Somewhere to stow me outside of the city. Riding horses and playing piano in the library as a teenager was the only part of this place that ever felt like mine.

I pull the Merc up along the other cars in the courtyard, parking among a sea of vintage Rolls, Bentleys, and Porsches before cutting the engine. The courtyard is already vibrant with tuxedos and expensive silk, wealthy people laughing as they enter the threshold into the manor.

I turn my head to look at Ellise.

In the dim ambient light of the dash, her face is pale. For a fraction of a second, I genuinely regret bringing her here into this viper’s nest.

“Last chance to run, Bow-Peep.”

She turns to look at me, those ocean blue eyes locking onto mine with fierce determination.

“I don’t run.” She grins.

I get out of the car, walk around to the passenger side, and open the door. I offer her my hand, gently assisting her as she stands, and making damn sure I don’t step on the train of her gown. When she finally steps beside me in the warm, glowing light of the lanterns, I feel something that I have no rational answer for.