Our Finest Moment ✔️

25

LIANA

I have my dress. I have my shoes. I have everything, except any knowledge of where everything will be, and Dorian is refusing to tell me anything at all. He says he doesn't know, but I know he's bullshitting me. It's been a month since I met him—and Colton—and I know that his neck strains for a split second before he makes up a lie.

Just like it does as he says, "I don't know what's going to happen on Saturday." He shrugs and fills his mouth with a maki roll, probably to avoid talking any more.

He usually always talks. It's a struggle to get him to keep his mouth shut, most of the time. But not today, because his boss—the infuriatingly attractive asshole I live with—has told him not to give me too many details.

About my own wedding.

The past month would have been torture if I hadn't felt such a strong connection to Dorian, but holy hell, he annoys me. And not in a cute way friends usually do, no, he full on avoids telling me important details about my future when I ask, he refuses to answer any questions about my almost-husband and he acts like we're best friends, even if he keeps all those secrets. I know he knows something, but I also know he won't tell. He's Colton's second closest person, so he's the closest I can get to gaining more control of the situation, and it's not like I've come any closer to bonding with Rina; I'm sure she hates me almost as much as Colton does.

But Dorian—Dorian adores me, and he still doesn't say anything. Does none of these mafia people trust me? Have I done nothing to prove I'm not a spy after all?

"You do know," I correct him, and narrow my eyes. I start listing things, raising fingers for every little thing he knows about the upcoming weekend. "The wedding is on Saturday, you know the location and times, you're my man of honor, you will be lying to a judge about Colton and I's relationship, and you'll probably get shitfaced and forget I was even in need of moral support and go home with the hottest man or woman you can find."

He swallows and nods slowly. "Yeah, see? We know the same stuff."

"No." I shake my head, and mutter a curse towards the ceiling. "I want to know where it is," I tell him, planting my hand flat on the table between us. The little sushi restaurant is almost empty, thankfully, the small tables around us vacant of anyone at all. We picked one in the corner, to be as far away from anyone, because we both knew what I wanted to talk about. "And I want to know who will be there, and what will happen. All Colton told me is that I need to be ready at noon, with my dress and everything, and I'll be picked up at the house."

Dorian grimaces with a hint of a smile on his lips. "It's so weird that you're using his full name. Why don't you just say 'Colt' like the rest of us?"

I groan. That's not what I want him to focus on at all. I'm a nervous wreck. It started to sink in a few days ago that I'm giving my whole life away to a criminal, in exchange for a luxurious lifestyle I'd only dreamt about before—and the possibility of some very hot sex. We'd agreed that we had to sell the relationship to make it work to his benefit, which meant no other partners for either of us, which again means we'll inevitably fuck. Again.

And, well, it's also in his dumb rules that we will. And, apparently, so is masturbation. I haven't lessened any urges since Colton threatened to punish me for it. I've wanted to—oh, I've wanted to—but...I haven't. The way he said he wanted to be the only one giving me pleasure made my insides jump up and down in glee, at the same time as my inner feminist wanted to strangle him.

He's an ass, but a stupidly sexy one that's been haunting my every thought since he pushed me up against the front door and said all those things. And I've also had a constant ache between my legs since he drove off on his motorcycle.