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compassion. I was beginning to rethink our long-term relationship, but he was so…so charming. As soon as he’d make me angry about something, I’d frown, and he’d amend his misstep with sincerity and grace. Sometimes, I wasn’t quite sure which one was the real Clayton. I was still trying to figure that out.
    In the company of my parents, he emulated a perfect gentleman. To me, he was a proud, wealthy man with flaws. But those flaws didn’t dampen his intentions toward me. He’d hinted on more than one occasion that I reminded him of his mother.
    The times I’d met her, she didn’t strike me as being so similar. Physically, we bore little resemblance. She was a mousy sort of woman who smiled sweetly, like my own mother did, but exuded a sort of coldness that put me on edge. He always greeted his mother with a kiss, so surely, he cared for her. I could never ask him whether his comparison of me to her was an insult or a compliment. I compartmentalized those doubts with the many other things I thought but never said.
    On many occasions, he’d hinted that I’d make a good wife—beautiful, dutiful, and loyal. Those were good traits to hear a man profess, though they weren’t the ones I wanted. Whenever I saw Jessen with Lucius and Sorcha with Lorian, I was always reminded that I might never find that depth of affection. I might never find true, deep, abiding love.
    And if I couldn’t, then I wanted the next best thing—security and loyalty. Alongside Clayton Kerrington, I’d fit perfectly in the society I was bred into. Just as I would make a good wife, he would make a good husband. Like my father, he would provide me with everything I needed.
    At least, that’s what I told myself. Until last week when Paxon Nightwing slammed my world in reverse with a not-so-innocent kiss under the starless night. I mentally shook the thought away.
    “So where are we going?”
    “It’s a surprise, baby.”
    Clayton winked at me from the driver’s seat, smiling in that way that used to make me feel special. I gazed out the window, wondering what was wrong with me for the hundredth time.
    Heck. I knew what was wrong with me. Ever since Paxon’s lips had touched mine, I was lost. Completely, totally, utterly lost. Heat flushed my cheeks even now, thinking of him. I had to get him out of my head. How unfair to Clayton, taking me out for some surprise, when I was wishing I was somewhere else. I berated myself for such thoughts.
    “I figured we could celebrate you finishing that secretary job. Yesterday was your last day, right?”
    Drifting back, I glanced at Clayton. “What? Oh, yes. Sherrie returned to work.”
    “You know. You don’t have to work for Sorcha anymore. You’re too good for that kind of work anyway.”
    “Well, I actually wanted that job.”
    “Why? You should be taken care of, not working at some menial job like that.”
    He sounded like my father, always wanting his princess taken care of. As if I was incapable of caring for myself, or even making my own decisions. I had loved that menial job that had given me a sense of purpose.
    I bit my lip to avoid saying something rude. I’d always buried my thoughts behind a blank face, but something had gotten into me lately.
    Like yesterday. Mom had wanted me to wear this stupid, girly dress and go to a society dinner for a fundraiser for Cade Enterprises. I’d done it a hundred times before, but something inside me snapped. I just lost it. I popped off to her, refusing to be her dress-up doll anymore. Even the look of shock and hurt hadn’t kept me from slamming my bedroom door in her face and locking it. Something stirred inside of me that not even my art could contain anymore.
    Clayton veered onto a gravel drive. This area was part of his family’s estate but was a good distance from the mansion where he lived. Their land extended for hundreds of acres through beautiful countryside.
    Dusk had fallen, leaving just a sliver of pink light in the west. He