Yoga is the favorite part of my day.

Thirty minutes I dedicate to clearing my mind and stretching parts of my body I didn’t even know existed. When I’m finished, I leave feeling more complete than I did when I walked through the front doors.

After the death of my parents, my grandmother insisted I go to therapy. I resisted at first, telling her there was no amount of therapy that could erase what I’d witnessed. The agony of my parents’ death wasn’t just tragic; it was a fucking nightmare. A nightmare that changed not only my life but who I am at my core. My world used to feel surrounded by a protective glass case until it shattered that day. Shards of what remained scattered at my feet, removing the veil of security that had been in front of me that my parents had created.

It wasn’t long before I faded into the background of my own life, allowing myself to descend into the darkness. Every situation life threw at me I proceeded with caution. I was no longer outspoken. I was no longer impulsive. Life became a series of calculated moves taken with careful measure. My grandmother caught on to my sudden shift in personality and became concerned for my wellbeing. It didn’t matter how many times I told her I was okay and that I was still me, just a different version, she wouldn’t let up. She’d nagged until I’d given in, hence the therapy.

I barely spoke during the first few sessions, opting to sit in tortured silence instead. Until my therapist suggested calming ways for me to clear my mind of the intrusive thoughts. Yoga was her first recommendation and, ever since my first class, I’ve been hooked.

I’ve been coming to this same yoga studio for the past year. At first, the floor to ceiling windows facing the busy street intimidated me. But once I’d set my knees on my yoga mat, bent forward, and pressed my head to the floor, I no longer cared. I slipped away into my own world. A world of my own making.

The sun beats against my skin, and I close my eyes, soaking in its last bit of warmth. Evening sessions are the best. Inhaling a deep breath, I sink to the floor and press my knees to my favorite purple mat. I adjust the top of my sage green leggings, then lift my arms over my head. Keeping my eyes closed, I bob my neck from side to side, immediately feeling relieved.

Yes, this is exactly why I’m here.

The intrusive thoughts that have clouded my mind all day begin to dissolve with the fading sun.

My finished novel collecting metaphorical dust that’s sitting in a word document on my half-broken laptop.

The gaping hole left behind from my grandmother’s death.

The embarrassment of standing on stage last night, with everyone’s eyes on me while I could only focus on one pair.

Holt’s blue eyes staring at me from the center of the crowd, then him making his way toward me after being declared the winning bidder.

The feel of his mouth pressed against mine.

His hand clutching my hip.

A rush of air passes between my lips. My thighs clench, and I run my palms against the tops of my legs.

Why is my heart beating so fast? It should be slowing down, not racing. Yoga is supposed to be calming, like the sound of small tides rolling onto shore. Instead, I feel like I’m gripping the railing of a ship headed toward a hurricane. Why is my stomach in knots at the memory? Not in a way that makes me feel sick but in a way that has me feeling.

I cock my head to the side and swallow, telling myself to get a grip. I forced myself to stop thinking about Holt at work. It worked for a while, but now he’s back, distracting me.

Raising my shoulders, I tilt my head to the side and force the feelings away. I open my eyes and glance around at my fellow classmates. I’ve become friends with a handful of them over the past year, but not so much that we take our friendships past the front doors of the yoga studio.

“Welcome, everyone,” the instructor, Alison, begins, clasping her hands in front of her. “We’re going to start with a bit of gentle yoga today, intended to calm your body and mind. I’m going to start with a half lotus position and lift my arms out and over my head, making sure to take in deep breaths along the way.”

I mimic Alison’s movements while closing my eyes. Calming meditative music plays overhead, but it’s quickly drowned out by the thunderous sound of applause. A small groan crawls up my throat as a flickering memory of blue eyes invades my mind. His deep, velvety voice hits my ear as his hand wraps around my hip, pulling me toward him.

Nice to see you again, Wallflower? Are you ready?

“Okay, now that we’ve loosened up, we’re going to transition into a tabletop position.”

My heart jumps into my throat at Alison’s sudden announcement. Peeling my eyes open, I shake the memory away and blow out a heavy breath.

What the fuck is wrong with me? One kiss from Holt, and now I’m suddenly unable to think of anything or anyone else?

I shift from my seated position, placing both hands near the front of the mat. With straightened arms, I press my knees into the mat, ensuring my back is straight and my arms are even in front of me.

Looking up, I wait for Alison’s next instructions, but they never come.

Her focus is directed squarely over my shoulder.

“Um, excuse me,” she says, sitting back on her heels, her eyebrows pulled together. “Can I help you?”

Blinking, I slowly glance over my shoulder. My neck prickles and nerves dance down my spine. Uneasiness with a dash of excitement settles in the pit of my stomach. Gasping, I stare , wide-eyed, at the tall, handsome, blue-eyed menace in a suit. He stands behind me, toward the back end of my yoga mat. Sensing he’s caught my attention, he looks down and sends me a wink.

My face immediately falls.

Am I dreaming? Is he truly here, crashing my yoga class?

“Sir.” Alison breaks our trance, stealing Holt’s attention. And mine! “Can I help you?”

“Oh.” Holt runs his hand through his hair and smirks before planting his hands on his hips. “I’m here for the class.”

Alison surveys him, clearly not understanding, considering he looks like he’s ready to do anything but take a yoga class.

“I don’t think so.” She presses her mouth together in disapproval. “You can’t just come in here without⁠—”

“Don’t worry.” Holt waves her off, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. His too-wide grin widens. “I paid for the session.”

He shrugs out of his suit jacket and carefully folds it in half before dropping it at the foot of my mat.

Alison stares at him deadpan before her eyes flick around the classroom, apparently waiting for someone to speak up and demand that Holt leave, but no one does. Aside from the quiet tunes filtering in the warm air, there’s not a single word of objection. Even I’m left speechless.

My mouth is still agape as Holt kneels between me and the woman beside me. He has no mat, and he looks ridiculous in his suit. I stifle a laugh at how out of place he looks. Something about a man as clean cut and expensive looking as him surrounded by meditative music and burning incense is comical. It’s like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

He leans forward, pressing his hands to the strip of hardwood between my mat and the woman’s next to mine. Looking up, he waits for the next instruction from Alison.

She blinks and shakes off the interruption, then continues on with the class.

But I’m not so easily moved.

Seeing Holt here has my mind swarming with heavy, clouded thoughts. The thoughts of last night come rolling back in, thick and heavy, stronger than they were moments only earlier. My stomach is still doing that stupid fluttering thing, and the memory of how he humiliated me last night echoes in my mind.

“Come on, Wallflower,” he whispers from the corner of his mouth. “I thought yoga was all about finding different ways to twist yourself into a pretzel, not people watch. Don’t tell me that’s why you come to these classes.”

I scoff, watching him in disbelief. Curling my hands into fists on top of my thighs, I inhale a deep breath and settle back into my tabletop pose, then roll my neck and squeeze my eyes shut. “So, what, are you, like, stalking me now?”

I have no idea if Holt is still following Alison’s instructions, but I don’t care.

He chuckles, and the sound shoots straight to those damn butterflies raging in my stomach. The sensation is so strong, I open my eyes and turn my head to look at him.

He’s sent me endless messages today, asking to talk, but I haven’t responded to any of them. Mostly because I haven’t been able to get a handle on the way I’m feeling about it just yet—another perk to therapy. Suddenly, you’re aware of every feeling and spend extra time analyzing and figuring out how to cope with them.

“What makes you think I’m stalking you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s start with you gatecrashing my yoga class in a ten-thousand-dollar suit for one.”

“Five thousand.”

“What?” I slip into the next pose, trying not break my concentration. I’m failing miserably. The scent of his aftershave drowns out the incense burning throughout the room.

“The suit was five thousand, not ten.”

“Whatever.” I rest my forearm on the floor while turning to the side. I engage my core, tightening as I reach my arm up into the air while breathing out.

Holt’s eyes never leave me. He isn’t even bothering to follow the moves the class is making. He’s simply lying on his side, propped up onto his elbow, watching me.

“Don’t tell me you came here just to eye me like a creep,” I whisper, tossing his words back at him as my arm starts to shake. I really need to get my arm strength up. This is pathetic.

The humor in Holt’s expression has faded. He doesn’t even care that Alison is launching daggers in his direction every few seconds.

“You haven’t been answering my texts.” He loosens his tie a little more. His sculpted collarbones peek out from the top of his shirt with the first few buttons undone, and I have the sudden desire to drag my finger along them. Heat pools in my lower belly, and I hate it. At least I do in this moment.

“There’s a reason I was ignoring you,” I say in a low voice, going back to a tabletop position.

Holt still hasn’t moved.

I begin rolling my hips from one side to the other. I arch my back, then pull it back in, stretching my spine and legs, the muscles in my lower stomach and inner thighs contracting. My entire body warms under Holt’s searing gaze.

“You’re torturing me.” He clears his throat, his gaze moving up and down the length of my body, taking in my position.

“My silence is torturing you?” I ask, chuckling.

His blue eyes dart straight from my lower body to my face. He lifts his hand and drags his thumb slowly over his bottom lip. “Yes.”

I roll my eyes. “I doubt that.”

“Why is it so hard to believe?”

“We never talk much, Holt. We aren’t exactly friends.”

“I never said we were.”

I roll my eyes again. “You’re my best friend’s brother.”

“So, what, that means I’m not allowed to care whether you shut me out or not?”

“Oh, so this is about your ego?”

“Ego?” He jerks back, clearly offended.

“Yep.” I nod. “You used our kiss last night to divert attention away from the news of your lawsuit. Your publicist didn’t waste any time letting you know how effective it was. Bravo. You hated that I didn’t play along with that stunt you pulled last night, and now my silence is bothering you. So much so that you tracked me down and crashed my yoga class.” I pause. “Wait, how did you know I’d be here?”

This very question didn’t dawn on me until now.

Ten seconds of silence, then… “Julianna. I’ve heard her mention coming with you to this studio a few times. I took my chances.”

“Right.” I nod once, accepting his answer. It’s true, I’ve taken both of my best friends and my sister to at least one yoga class each, and it’s safe to say they’ve never wanted to come back since.

“Selene…” He blows out a hot breath.

There’s a growing tightness in my chest that’s ready to snap. I can’t put my finger on one single moment that’s brought me to this point, but the more I look at Holt lying in front of me, the tighter the knot gets. It’s suffocating. Overwhelming.

Holt’s relentless searing gaze is unnerving. Enough to cause the dam I’ve built to break. “Look, I’m sorry my silence has suddenly bothered you enough to come down here. If I knew you’d be this inconvenienced, I would have saved us both the embarrassment and responded to you earlier.”

“Selene, listen⁠—”

“Why are you here, Holt?” I ask too loudly, my thoughts overruling all common sense. Once the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve broken one of the most sacred yoga rules.

“Shh!” Alison hisses. “No talking.”

Both Holt and I snap our heads toward the front of the class, half of which is staring at us, the other half hanging their heads low, pretending not to be listening to our conversation.

My cheeks bloom with heat when Alison’s eyes narrow sharply.

I mouth, “I’m sorry,” to her before slipping into the next position she wants us to in: child’s pose. I bend forward, bringing my chest to my legs and reaching my arms forward, pressing my palms flat on the floor. I’m thankful for this position. It allows me to block out my view of Holt. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.

He doesn’t speak again. I try, again, to clear my mind, but all I can think about is him beside me. His gaze sears every inch of my body, and it’s agonizing. Seconds tick by, and I wonder how long we’ll stay like this. Is this normal or has time slowed?

Finally, Alison urges us to come up and take a second to breathe and stretch. When I sit back, I avoid looking over at Holt, but I can feel his gaze glued to me. I close my eyes and roll my head to each side.

“Stop watching me,” I whisper.

“What else should I be doing?” he whispers back.

“I don’t know… Yoga might be a good start?”

“I don’t know how to do yoga.”

“Oh, my God,” I groan. “You coming here is the real torture.”

“Spicy today, aren’t we, Wallflower?”

I open my eyes and stop moving, curling the tips of my fingers into the tops of my thighs. The class continues with their next pose, but I’m no longer in the mood. Holt has stolen all the concentration and energy I had for this class today. I’d say it happened the moment he barged into this session, but the truth is, he was a distraction before he was ever even here.

I came here to get my mind off him and that stupid kiss last night, but now he’s right in front of me, and not just in my head.

An ache twists inside me—something overwhelming that causes my breath to hitch.

Without a word, I pull myself to a stand and begin to roll up my yoga mat. It’s completely uneven and it takes me a few tries to finally get it on the right track before I snatch my water bottle and phone up from the floor and tuck my mat under my arm. Once I leave the studio, I rush over to my tiny cubby and slip my socks and sneakers back on.

Holt is quick to follow. He watches me in silence as I slip into each sock then shoe. Once I’m finished, I stiffen and stare at him, shooting him as many invisible daggers as possible.

The front desk clerk shifts her attention toward us before swinging it back to her screen, pretending to click on her computer.

I open my mouth to lay into Holt for ruining my class but stop short. His blue eyes have softened, and his black suit jacket dangles loosely from his hooked fingers at his side. I don’t know why but one look at him and I’ve turned to utter mush. I was angry with him inside the studio, but now I feel my anger shifting. My body and mind are completely betraying me.

“Why did you come here?” I ask him, trying not to sound like I’m on the verge of letting him see how he’s affecting me. “And don’t say it was because you suddenly had an interest in yoga. You weren’t even trying back there.”

The corner of his mouth curls again. Dammit. “You owe me a date.”

Well, that’s a statement I wasn’t expecting.

I jerk back as my eyebrows pull together. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“The winning bidder of the auction gets a kiss and a date.”

“For someone as intelligent as you’re supposed to be, you aren’t very good at reading the fine print,” I snap. “First, the kiss was supposed to be on the cheek, not the mouth. You clearly bulldozed over that rule.”

Chuckling, he lifts his hand and massages his chin. His eyes spark with humor. “And second?”

“Second,” I force out, annoyed. “The date is optional. I have a right to say no if I don’t want to go on a date.”

“Are you telling me you don’t want to go on a date with me?”

I’m at a loss for words.

He steps forward, bringing his face dangerously close to mine. “Go on a date with me, Wallflower.”

I haven’t even asked him where he came up with that nickname for me yet. He’s said it a few times, but I don’t have the energy to dig into it right now.

“Holt, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” I turn my face away from him so he can’t read my thoughts. He’s already managed to break through some of the walls I’ve put up. I don’t want him getting any closer to how I’m feeling when I can’t even make sense of it myself.

Slowly, he hooks two fingers under my chin, pulling me back to him. “You have to admit something about that kiss lit something inside you.” His voice is deep and velvety, slithering across my skin with determination, like it knows exactly the kind of reaction it’s drawing out of me.

He doesn’t care that we aren’t alone. The clerk working the front desk is clearly watching us now. She isn’t even shy about it. Her mouth pops open, and her eyes spread wide.

I focus on Holt. His close proximity causes the blood to rush to my face, deepening the heat in my cheeks.

“Holt, I⁠—”

“You need someone to challenge you.”

“I don’t need anyone.”

“No,” he chuckles, lifting his hand and tucking my hair behind my ear. “You don’t need anyone. But, see? You’re proving my point already.”

“What point?”

“I make you feel something.” His fingers graze the shell of my ear, then along the curve of my neck.

“You do not.”

I’ve sworn off dating. Adam was a momentary lapse in judgment. Like taking a test drive that I soon decided was a massive mistake. And while going on a date with Holt would be counterproductive to my own argument, he has a point. He does light something inside me. I’m just not sure it’s something I want to confront at the moment.

“What would Julianna think if we went on a date?”

He pauses and swallows. His neck bobs with the motion, and I want to press my lips to his delicate flesh just to feel his pulse beating against me.

“I hardly care what my sister thinks.”

“I do,” I tell him honestly, dropping my gaze to his lips.

His mouth curls into a knowing smirk and a chuckle erupts from his throat. “I think she’d understand.”

“Because of the auction?”

“Yeah, because of the auction.” He licks his lips. His hand is still resting behind my ear, and I realize I haven’t pulled away. I haven’t even tried. Not like I did last night. I’m still angry with him for humiliating me in front of hundreds of New York socialites. I’m angry with him for using me as a distraction from his own bad publicity.

But the vulnerability in his expression has me softening. My heart is betraying me, telling me to run from this feeling as fast as possible.

I don’t, though.

I close my eyes and blow out a heavy sigh. “Fine, I’ll go on a date with you.”

His fingers drop from behind my ear, and I pop my eyes open.

His expression is blank, and suddenly, I’m aching with need. Need for what, exactly, I’m unsure. All I know is that if I roll onto my toes and lean just a fraction forward, we’ll be kissing again. Would it feel like it did last night?

What the hell am I agreeing to?

I force my feet to remain where they are. “But only for the auction. You paid for it, after all. For me.”

His eyebrows pinch and his chin rears back.

Shit.

I blink, waving my hand in the air. “I didn’t mean you paid for me, but you know…”

He takes a step back as if he’s realized he’s stuck his hand into a raging fire. He can’t pull away from me fast enough.

“Holt.” I sigh, lifting my hand to the back of my neck where Holt’s was just seconds ago. “I want to go on this date with you. As friends.”

“I thought we weren’t friends, remember?”

“We aren’t.”

Wait, what did I just say?

He gives me a long pause before he clears his throat and runs his hand down the side of his face. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at seven.”

I raise my brows. “At my place?”

“Yeah.” He nods once. “Where else would I pick you up?”

“You’ve never been to my apartment.” Suddenly, I’m panicking.

“So.” He shrugs.

“I won’t be there. I’ll be working,” I blurt out, coming up with a lie on the spot. I don’t know why, but the thought of Holt showing up to my place sounds like the one thing I don’t want. I’d rather spend the rest of my life organizing orchid arrangements than see him standing in my apartment.

“Charleigh has you working at the shop that late?”

“Inventory,” I clip out, hoping he doesn’t catch onto my lie.

“I’m sure Charleigh would understand. She’s never been a difficult boss.”

I laugh. “How would you know?”

“Seriously?” He pops a brow. “Charleigh’s one of those people that would rehabilitate a dying rat if she found one barely clinging to life in the middle of some back alley. I doubt she’s some domineering, tyrannical boss.”

I smile, knowing he’s right. Charleigh would do something like that. “She isn’t. But, yes, I guess you can pick me up from the shop. I’ll be ready at seven.”

“Perfect.” His too-wide grin returns. He’s back to being his usual smug, confident self. The type all the women in the comments of his social media posts pine after.

He slips back into his suit jacket before running his finger down the length of my face. Then he’s pushing through the front doors and disappearing into the crowded streets of New York without another word.

“The rumors are true, then?” The clerk behind the front desk squeals, stealing my attention. Her hand is pressed firmly to her chest, and her eyes are glazed over like some giddy teenager. “You are dating Holt Capuleti.”

I don’t even bother asking her what rumors she’s talking about. I already know.

I simply tuck my yoga mat farther under my arm and hope I can slip back into obscurity, but something tells me I won’t be able to contain the beast that’s been unleashed. The one that has my world quickly blending with Holt’s now.