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13: The parties will not associate with one another except when associating would greatly improve the public perception of the Partnership.

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"How long did you two date?" Adam asked.

Honey whirled. She'd been leading Adam through the ballroom as she picked at the gelato he'd handed her, sidestepping servers and fire twirlers and dancers in blue and red body paint. A string quartet played something that sounded like Christmas music, then ascended into a whip-fast salsa.

She blinked. "Date who?"

"Tedward."

"His name is Teddy—"

"How long did you date him?"

Honey's spoon was loaded with gelato. It hovered by her mouth as she eyed Adam closely. "We didn't date."

"How many times have you slept together, then?"

She scowled, glancing around frantically. "Will you keep your voice down? My dad's here. Somewhere ..."

"Have you fucked him?"

Honey's lips twitched enough that Adam knew—that if they weren't in public, she'd be dumping her gelato over his head.

She turned away, her dress fanning behind her, and quickened her pace. "Wow." Adam scoffed as he followed her through the glittering crowd. "So that's a yes."

"We've never engaged in intimacy together, no."

"Snuck off to the hedge maze, then?" The perfect place for a midnight rendezvous. Adam would know.

"We. Are. Friends. Strictly." The way she said that last word made it sound like it was underlined in red.

Adam snorted. "Sure, let's pretend that's true—"

"For goodness sake—"

"What's the story, then?"

"Story?"

"You two have history." It was as transparent as the ice dragon atop a glass pedestal breathing actual fire a metre away from them. Were dragons the Valentine's sigil or something? Was ice?

Honey sighed as they finally made it out of the throng of twirling bodies, sensing that Adam wasn't letting the matter go. "We were supposed to get married, alright?"

Adam choked on his gelato. "Come again?"

"Anyway."

"Um, no. We're not just sidestepping that. What do you mean you were supposed to?"

"Our parents arranged it. He's Teddy Pott." She said it as though Adam knew Australian tycoon royalty as well as he knew the highest-ranking surfers of all time—in order of rank, thank you very much. "Edward Pott?" she tried again. "Of Pott's Chocolatiers? Our families have been at war since the Pott's opened shop in Brisbane in the eighteen hundreds. Think York and Lancaster, or Montagues and Capulets."

"Is that French for something?"

"It was just very enemies-to-lovers. Star-crossed. Et cetera."

"Is that, like, Latin?" Adam widened his eyes and leaned to the side, wondering if Honey was hexing him. "What are you saying?"

Honey loaded her spoon with frothy gelato and slid it into her mouth, trying again. "Our families hated each other. Then, one day, my grandfather and Teddy's grandfather realised they'd make more money together than apart, what with all of the international brands coming over to Australia: Cadbury, Lindt ..." She swallowed the creamy concoction. Adam tried not to watch its path down her slender throat. "Not to mention globalisation in general."

Adam nodded like he understood. Maybe she was speaking Icelandic. Explained all the ice ...

"None of us could compete on our own soil, so our families planned to merge their companies."

And merge their families, too, by the sounds of it.

Adam pulled a face. "That's archaic."

"Oh, so you know what archaic means."

"They were literally selling you off!" Like cattle. Like assets.

Honey smiled politely at a startled guest, and Adam took the hint to keep his voice down. "No more than Teddy's family were selling him off," she reasoned. "It was a business move. That's all."

"That's terrible."

Honey stiffened. Like he'd called her terrible. "Well," she snapped, "it didn't happen, did it?"

Thank god for that. But ... "Why didn't it?" Why couldn't it? Adam motioned to the other side of the ballroom with his spoon, where he could vaguely make out that circle of stuffy suits as the throng of dancers whirled and weaved like red and blue threads in a luxurious tapestry. "You clearly don't hate each other anymore."

Honey stopped at the foot of the stairs leading out of the ballroom. She tilted her head at him, making her golden curls sway. Adam felt like she was scrutinising him. Like he was a bug in a jar, and she was trying to decide whether to release him into the wild or take him out under the sun and level a magnifying glass.

Her gaze fluttered over his face. That heat from earlier returned to his cheeks.

"What?" he ground out.

"Nothing. You just ... You sound ..." She blinked away the strange glaze from her eyes, shaking her head. "Nothing."

Biting her tongue. Naturally. Not that it mattered. Adam knew what she was thinking. He'd heard the same thing in his own voice that she had.

He was so not jealous. Why did she keep insisting that he was? First with Bear, now with Tedward ...

Ridiculous.

She started walking up the stairs from the ballroom, her ice-blue skirt doing something wicked to the curve of her swaying ass. That slit up her leg was dangerously close to revealing ... whatever the hell was underneath the shimmering fabric that moved like a sheet of water when she walked. She didn't seem the type to not wear underwear, but that slit was very, very high ...

"I'm just ... concerned," Adam insisted as he trailed her. And that was the truth. "Teddy broke off his engagement for you."

Honey whipped around, eyes wide.

He held up a hand as he overtook her on the steps. "You're brilliant and perceptive, so don't tell me that you're not already thinking it. He's crazy about you."

She advanced a step so she towered over him. "Nonsense."

He advanced a step. "Liar."

She advanced another step.

So did he.

They stood on the same rung, but she was short enough that she had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze or be forced to step back. He knew the latter wasn't an option.

"Whatever the case." She fiddled with her necklace. He hadn't noticed before, but it was a tiny glass heart that encased dried blue flowers. "If this is you playing jealous boyfriend for the sake of the Partnership, then need I point out that no one's around to hear you?"

Indeed, most of the guests were settled in the ballroom. "That's not it," he insisted. "I'm just—"

"Concerned. Right." Honey broke their strange little staring contest first, making Adam wish he had. She breached the landing and aimed for the partitioned antechamber; the ice tunnel, this time. "Even so. You don't need to be fake concerned. It never would have worked out between Teddy and me."

On that point, Adam could agree. Teddy was nowhere near man enough for her.

But they were friends.

Very old friends.

Adam tried to meet her gaze as he followed her. Near impossible when a snow machine blew a blizzard between them. "No?"

Honey cocked a brow. "Do I need to spell it out?" When his silence indicated that, yes, actually, she did, she emphasised, "Teddy ... Pott?"

And it took Adam a second, but ...

He tipped his head back, and when a laugh tore from his stomach, it wasn't a quiet or secretive thing. It was loud and bone-rattling. He clenched his stomach when Honey glowered at him, thoroughly unamused, and whilst a glare that cold could freeze human blood, Adam struggled to feel anything but surging warmth as she crossed her arm and tapped her foot impatiently.

"If you're quite finished, Adam—"

"Honey Pott?" he repeated, laughing again, harder. "Honeypot?"

"Oh, grow up."

"God. You're right. That's the stuff of nightmares. Worse than Honeybees, for sure."

"I totally just gave you ammunition for another terrible pet name, didn't I?"

Adam stopped laughing. Something else entirely arced through his mind. "Does that bother you?"

"The pet names?" Honey waved away a server offering frozen lollies. "Jeez, what gave it away—"

"Not that. That your family still sells products named after you even though you've left the company?" He'd never thought about it before. Those Honeybees would have been making the company millions, not to mention the Honeysuckles and Honeychips and Honey ... everything.

Their namesake bristled. "Maybe I was named after the products."

"Isn't that ... " Worse?

Honey came to a stop at the mouth of the ice tunnel, the wing before them so long that Adam could fit his childhood home into it five times over. Finally, she shrugged. "I don't see how it matters."

Adam frowned. "I do."

Honey's eyes slid up. Their gazes locked and held. She looked ... angelic. Some of the snow from the passage had settled in her hair, a crown fit for a winter queen. The fleeting daylight pouring in through the skylights had a dappled effect on her cheekbones, gilding the glitter she'd swept over them so they looked enchanting. Like pixies had danced on her face while she slept. It reminded Adam of that night he'd intercepted Honey and Olivier. Of how much she'd dressed up for him ...

Honey took a step forward. Another. She came to a stop barely an inch away from him, never once dropping Adam's gaze. Images of That Night shot through his mind.

Her against the column.

Him pinning her there.

The music had been loud.

All he'd heard was her.

He'd gotten one look at Honey That Night, with her lashes fluttering, her red lips parted in the shape of a delicious moan that he'd felt down to his bones, and even the most rebellious part of himself had surrendered to her. The first grind of her tight warmth against his thigh had been enough to send him to an early grave, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't spent most nights since imagining how she'd feel clenched around his fingers or his cock, her head thrown back, his name a sated cry on her lips ...

Honey reached up. Adam swore she was going to cup his face, pull him down, kiss him hard. He'd fuck her if she asked. Right here, right against the walls of her family home. And not just if it was necessary for their contract. Certainly not because he liked her. The lady and the tramp; that'd teach her family for taking her for granted. He'd look her dad right in the eye when he buried himself inside her, then ask him to uncork his oldest bottle of Merlot and bathe Honey in it so Adam could lick it off her breasts while her whole family and Sirius and Tedward watched, and she'd ride him into oblivion, worshipping his name, and he'd—

"It looks good," Honey mumbled.

Adam tunnelled back into his body. Honey had handed him her gelato and was fiddling with his tie. Not kissing him. Definitely not moaning for him. Her forehead was creased slightly, and she sucked on her bottom lip while she fastened the black silk around his neck.

"Your tie," she clarified.

Right. Not the fantasy playing out in his head. She couldn't see that, thank the Lord.

Come to think of it, Adam was having to thank God a lot more than usual lately.

"I was worried", Honey said as she fixed Adam's poor handiwork, oblivious to the downward trajectory of his thoughts. "About the size of your suit, since we didn't have time to get it tailored, and you're so ... Well, you know."

No. He didn't know. Sure, he had some idea. Adam wasn't stupid; he knew that Honey found him somewhat physically appealing. She'd said so herself. The same way that he had no problem admitting that she was carved from temptation and most men's darkest desires. Though she did insist that he was only objectively attractive...

Good thing that Adam didn't mind being seen as an object.

He tried to sound smooth and not bridled by lust. "I'm so ... what?"

"Tall," she answered quickly.

He managed to rein in an eye roll.

"And the colour's nice, don't you think?"

"I thought you liked me more in blue?" His voice came out low and throaty, full of gravel.

If she heard his mounting desire, she didn't let it show. Her fingers worked quickly. "Well, you love that awful red jacket of yours so much. And it's not about what I like," she added hastily. "It's just colour theory. Strictly science."

"You know what else is science?"

"Let me guess." She looped the tie around itself with a sigh. "Biology?

"I was going to say the way that your parents set all those ice sculptures on fire. Very impressive. But I like what you suggested more."

"Adam?"

"Tim Tam?"

Honey stepped back to survey her handiwork, taking her gelato with her. When her gaze rose to his, he thought her pupils might have expanded—just a bit.

"Stop trying to trick me into violating our contract", she said, "and put on your big boy panties. It's time to meet my grandmother. And whatever you do"—she groaned again, and something inside him vibrated at the sound—"don't mention our competitors' products."

"Noted, Butterfinger."

He'd wanted her to groan again, but she only reached for his hand and dragged him out of the antechamber, rolling her eyes to the chandelier and back.

He didn't dare tell her that he'd slipped some Tim Tams into her grandmother's gift bag.

Whoops.

Ember Leigh Valentine was notoriously hard to please.

She was the fire to Chip Valentine's ice; before it turned silver, her hair had been flame-red, and she was as hot-tempered as she was quick-witted. Where Honey's grandfather had been stoic and reserved, his ex-burlesque-dancer wife was a scorching force that dominated every room she entered with a blink of her feathery lashes. Chip had been lovestruck upon first seeing her dance at her ex-boyfriend's club, creating a whole line of candy in Ember's honour: Firebugs, Hot-Chocs, and the ever-popular Flaming Pop Rocks.

It had taken Honey's mother five whole years to win over the Valentine's matriarch. She'd cracked her eventually—with a three-course home-cooked meal that involved replicating Ember's grandmother's slow-cooked Sunday roast.

Adam won her over with a paper bag full of candy in less than five minutes.

Candy that wasn't even from Ember's own company.

Honey shook her head to herself as she descended the sweeping staircase from the floor that her grandmother was staying in at her parents' Victorian manor. Her grandmother had done well that afternoon, greeting guests and wielding her usual pearly-white smile—one that made the burliest of Valentine's investors weak at the knees. But her health had been up and down ever since Honey's grandfather had passed away. Honestly, Honey had a sneaking suspicion that her grandmother had been ill long before that, but had put her ailment off to keep the family's focus on her late husband. She was just iron-willed enough to scare Death itself away.

When Honey and Adam had found her, Ember had been seated at the balcony outside her suite, partaking in one of her favourite pastimes—reading a bodice ripper while she watched the sun set over the estate. She'd requested that Honey give her and Adam a moment alone, and Honey wasn't stupid enough to say no to her grandmother.

She was stupid enough to leave Adam alone with her, though. Honey groaned at the thought as she paced the third-story corridor. Who knew what humiliating quips Adam would come up with once he glimpsed the tantalising book cover that her grandmother hadn't even tried to hide? That was another thing about Ember—she was even more shameless than Adam. According to a few family members, Honey had inherited a lot from her grandmother. Her steely composure, her shrewd tongue, her ability to somehow look down her nose at men three times her height. But Honey hadn't quite managed to replicate Ember's boldness. Her ability to be totally herself, and be unapologetic about it.

Honey aimed for the staircase that would take her back to the ballroom; her stomach was rumbling, and Sirius had told her that fire-stewed cassoulet was on the menu. Last year, Matt had almost fainted when Sirius joked that the dish was made from donkey meat.

All parts of the donkey.

Honey had shooed Sirius away, assuring her pale-faced ex-husband that it was most definitely only goose and duck. Sirius had a habit of putting her dates through the wringer. Adam, by the looks of things, was going to be no exception. Not that he truly was Honey's date, but ...

Well. For argument's sake.

Just as her hand curled around the bannister, Honey paused. Her cousin Arthur was in her father's study. Honey tried not to be bothered by the sight. She'd only been admitted access into her father's office a year after her last promotion at Valentine. She didn't know the state of her visitor's access pass now that she no longer worked there at all.

Art's pass seemed to be well in order. As the pick of the boy's club—consisting of Honey's dad and his brothers—for Valentine's next CEO, that made sense.

Still.

"Honey?"

Honey clamped her eyes shut. She should have bolted down the staircase when she had the chance. Painting a smile on her lips, she turned to regard her cousin. "Art! Hello—"

He was right behind her when she turned, not giving her a moment to retreat before throwing his arms around her and forcing her into a hug. Honey froze. Physical affection? Not her thing. Not Art's thing, either, as far as she knew.

Then again, she didn't know much about her softer-spoken cousin. He'd always been so good at hiding from attention. Until now.

Oh, how times had changed.

Honey mustered up enough sense to tap a hand against his back. "Good to see you, Arthur."

"No it's not." Arthur pulled away, grimacing. When Honey frowned at the odd remark, he threaded his brow together. He looked genuinely terrified. "I know you hate me."

Honey blinked, stunned. "Pardon?"

Art pushed his crooked glasses up his nose. He was one of the few Valentines to have inherited Ember's red hair instead of Chip's blonde, and it was a stark contrast that day to his ice-white suit. 

Honey frowned. She recognised that waistcoat. Wasn't it their grandfather's?

"I don't hate you, Art," she finally insisted. "Why would you think I do?"

"Because ... well, because ..." His grimace only grew, somehow even making it to his eyes. "You know ..."

Because he was the boy club's top choice for CEO. Not her. Despite everything she'd done for Valentine. Even though she could stand nose-to-nose with Valentine's investors and advocate for the family's interests in a way that timid, shy Arthur just couldn't. No matter; he had his father and uncles to do that for him.

Which Honey supposed was the entire