Arthur's lips had almost brushed the corner of mine.
But the word fiancée cut through everything.
All the heat, all the madness, all the dangerous softness between us froze.
Arthur stopped.
He was still holding my chin, his warm, uneven breath falling against my cheek. He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling hard several times, his throat working as if he were swallowing something sharp.
He was holding himself back.
Finally, he let go.
He tugged at his wrinkled collar and strode toward the entryway.
Then he opened the door.
Daniel stood outside in an expensive pale suit, holding a custom umbrella.
His gaze moved past Arthur and landed on me—on my disheveled collar, my flushed face.
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Chloe," Daniel said, folding the umbrella. "I checked your
