“What?”

“Yeah, Henley came over this morning and arranged it with Mason and I.”

I stare at her as I try to get my brain to catch up. “So you and Mason are going on a date?”

“No.” She rolls her eyes as if I’m stupid. “Henley and I are going on a date together, and you and Mason are hooking up . . . remember?”

“Oh . . . right.”

What the fuck?

“Okay.” I try to think on my feet. “Where are we going to, again?”

“Club SoHo.” She frowns over at me. “Were you listening to Henley at all when he organized this with you?”

“Obviously not.” I smile through gritted teeth.

“So . . . what are you thinking?” she says. “Pure, slutty, supermodel . . . What look are you going for?”

“Psychopathic works for me.”

“Juliet, honestly.” She throws her head back and laughs out loud. “You’re such a hoot.”

I’ll hoot you in a fucking second.

“I don’t know what I’m wearing. I’ll play it by ear, I guess,” I tell her.

“I’m going to wear my tight white dress. I really want to blow Henley’s brains out.”

That makes two of us.

“Sounds like a plan.” I fake a smile. “I’ve got a lot to do, so . . .”

She stands. “I’ll let you get to it. Mason is so excited to finally spend some time with you.”

“Great, I can hardly wait.”

Henley is dead fucking meat.

“See you at Henley’s at six.”

I frown. “Six?”

“We’re having drinks there before we go, remember?”

“Right.” I fake a smile as I begin to hear my angry heartbeat in my ears. “See you then.” I close the door and march upstairs.

What the fuck is he playing at?

I wait fifteen minutes until the coast is clear, and I sneak over to Henley’s through his side gate and into his backyard.

Damn this sneaking-around shit. I’m over it.

Bang, bang, bang. I knock on his glass sliding door with force.

Silence . . .

Bang, bang, bang. I knock harder.

Eventually he saunters out of the hallway. He’s wearing shorts with no T-shirt, his hair is messed up to perfection, and he is on the phone. “Hi,” he mouths as he opens the door and steps back to let me in. I march past him into the house. He holds a finger up to me to symbolize he will be a few minutes, and then he walks back down to his office and sits at his desk.

“Yes, so you can see with the drawing on page two,” he tells whoever he is on the phone to. “Scroll through to page eight, and I want to show you what I’m talking about.”

Ugh . . . he’s on a work call.

I walk out to his kitchen and open the fridge. “Fuck it, I’m having a glass of wine.” I open all the kitchen cupboards as I look for his wineglasses and eventually find them in the last place I look. I pour myself a glass and take a huge gulp. I am furious with him. How dare he make a date with Taryn? And how dare I find out this information from Taryn herself?

Calm down.

I walk back out into the hallway and can hear him still deep in conversation, and I glance up the stairs. I’ve never even seen his bedroom. We are always at my house. I glance back down to his office, and then I sneak up the stairs.

The hallway is grand. Beautiful artwork hangs on the walls, and a marble side table sits at the top of the stairs with a vase of white lilies.

I feel a little deflated. Everything is so luxurious and perfect. What must he think of my disheveled home? I walk past a few guest bedrooms and a white marble bathroom, and then I get to the end of the hall: his bedroom.

It’s huge and grand, with a four-poster bed. The carpet is navy blue, and the walls are a beautiful shade of taupe. Styled to perfection, and not a detail out of place.

An abstract painting of a naked woman in beautiful hues of blue and mauve is hanging above the bed.

“God . . . ,” I whisper to myself as I look around. He is really slumming it at my dumpy house. I walk to his wardrobe and pause as I hold the door handle. I’m almost too scared to look, but I do anyway. I open the door and am surprised by the huge space of his walk-in wardrobe. It’s another room.

Expensive tailored suits are all lined up and hanging, shoes all polished and in pairs. I pull out the top drawer and see ties all rolled up and on display. This is like a fucking Prada store or something. I pull out the second drawer to find a display of expensive designer watches. Insecurity runs through me, and I slam the drawer shut in disgust.

I walk back out into his bedroom and sit nervously on his bed.

It’s a king size, with perfectly ironed white linen that has a navy stitching line about ten centimeters in from the edges. The only place I’ve ever seen this type of bed linen is in exotic house magazines.

I sit quietly on the bed as I look around his luxurious space. His bedside tables have neatly stacked novels and a crystal lamp on each side. Perfectly matched, like everything in Henley’s world.

What on earth do we have in common?

A sense of dread fills me. Even if we do work out . . . how long will it be for? He belongs with someone as perfect as him, not a hot mess like me who has dog fur on everything she owns.

“There you are,” his deep voice says from the doorway.

I force a smile. “Here I am.”

He leans onto the doorjamb. “What’s up?”

No kiss?

“Umm . . .” I pause as I try to get the wording right in my head. “Taryn just came over.”

“And?” He raises his eyebrow as if impatient.

“She thinks we have a double date with them tonight?”

He breaks into a breathtaking smile. “Well . . . kind of.”

“What do you mean, kind of?”

“They have been on my case, and I . . .” He shrugs.

“You what?” I snap.

“I thought tonight was a good opportunity to put it to bed and out of the way.”

“What happened to our date? I want you to myself. I don’t want to go out with Mason, and you are definitely not going out with fucking Taryn.”

“Relax.” He rolls his eyes and walks into his bathroom. “Blake and Antony are coming, too, with their girls.” He turns the shower on. “It’s a group thing. It’s no big deal.”

“Taryn thinks it’s a big deal, Henley,” I snap.

He drops his shorts and hops under the water. I’m instantly silenced by his beauty. He wets his hair and then begins to wash it.

“What happens if Mason makes a move on me?” I ask.

He smiles with his eyes closed. “Then I guess you handle it.”

He’s different.

“I don’t want to handle it,” I huff. “And what about Taryn? We both know she’s going to try something on you.”

He exhales heavily as if I’m inconveniencing him. “Juliet, I am not in the mood for your dramatics today. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

I stare at him. What’s going on here? He hasn’t touched me once.

“Okay, I’m going home,” I announce.

“See you tonight,” he replies casually. “Be here about six.”

I stand at the side of the shower waiting for him to resurface into his old self, but he doesn’t.

“What if I don’t want to go tonight?” I snap.

“Then don’t come.” He shrugs as he soaps himself up.

“What’s wrong with you today?”

“Nothing, why?”

“You’re acting weird.”

“Am I acting weird or are you acting clingy?”

I step back, affronted. Fuck this. I’m totally being clingy, not that I’ll ever admit it.

“Goodbye,” I snap.

“See you.” He smiles casually and goes back to washing himself.

I march down the stairs and back over to my house in a fit of rage. I am not going anywhere tonight with them.

Taryn can have them both.