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"How long has it been with that little girlfriend of yours? Still not bored?" That was the first thing Sophia Granger heard when she reached the door of the private room. The door was half-open. Music spilled out along with a thick wave of cigarette smoke and alcohol. Sophia's hand rested on the handle, but she didn't push it open. Through the gap, she could see Caelan Whitmore clearly — and Iris Ashford sitting in his lap, arms draped around his neck in a way that left nothing to the imagination. The corner of Caelan's mouth curved into a faint, lazy smile. He didn't answer Iris. He just flicked the ash off his cigarette and turned the question back on her. "What, jealous?" "Jealous of her?" Iris rolled her eyes. "Don't forget I'm your fiancée. You can fool around with whoever you want out there, but at the end of the day, I'm the one you're marrying." Laughter rippled through the room. A few voices chimed in, all saying more or less the same thing. Sophia lowered her eyes. It wasn't the first time she'd heard something like this. She'd thought she was past the point of being hurt by it. But right now, the pain cut straight to the bone. To Caelan, she was nothing more than a distraction — something to play with when he was bored, and just as easy to throw away. No different from any of the other women who'd passed through his life. The party broke up late into the night. Caelan had been drinking, a pleasant buzz softening his edges. When Sophia helped him out of the bar, most of his weight leaned against her. The perfume clinging to him was overwhelming. Iris's perfume. The underground parking garage was deserted. Caelan's silver Cullinan stood out against the concrete shadows. Sophia positioned herself in front of the car and reached for his keys, but the moment her hand moved, his closed around it — warm, almost feverish. The next second, he had her by the shoulders, pressing her back against the car door, dipping his head toward her lips. The perfume hit her ful
