Sheer panic jolts through my legs, up my spine, spreading into my brain, assaulting all other emotions.

Huxley notices this and immediately clarifies, “Not an engagement ring. A promise ring. It’s a symbol of our love and devotion to one another. No other strings attached. No commitment to get married. I just want everyone to know that… you’re mine.” He quickly adds, “For now.”

A ring seems too impractical a gift. Huxley isn’t a “symbol” kind of person. Nor is he sappy. And who said anything about marriage? What else did he… oh. “You love me?”

“Yeah.” He tilts his head to one side, eyebrows drawing together. “Have I not told you already?”

I’m numb. “No. You haven’t.”

He takes my face between his hands, forcing me to focus solely on him. The intensity of his gaze, the illogical beauty of his face, the scent of caramel and chestnuts, drown out the noisy room around us. Nothing’s alive except him and me. “I love you, Ailee Chambers. I have fallen in love with you.”

That’s it. I’ve done it. I’ve won the heart of a psycho. And while I wish I could say all I feel is disgust, I’d be lying. Because Felix is right, as always. Huxley is a powerful, stunning human being. Yes, he’s a criminal, but he’s a criminal with one of the highest social statuses in the Solar System. And unfortunately, I’m not above being affected by these facts.

Then reality comes crashing down.

I jerk my head to the side, and his hands fall away, but they’re back on my waist. He’s unwilling to let me go. “You don’t have to say that,” I tell him. “In fact, you don’t need to do any of this. We don’t need to date. You don’t need to give me a ring. I’m not working on NeuroQueue anymore, so no incentive is necessary.” I pause. “If this is your way of keeping my mouth shut about the project, you don’t need to worry, I—”

He quiets me with a paralyzing kiss. When we break apart, he stresses, “I. Love. You.”

My voice is small. “Why?”

“I just do,” he states. “I can’t help it. Is that so hard to accept?” He waits, his gaze searching my face, but I don’t reply. “What are you thinking?”

I’m thinking that I don’t believe he knows what love is. The words from his lips are sweet, but his actions speak of dominance, ownership, control. “You already know everything about me. You ask about me, and I answer. But I hardly know anything about you. You never answer my questions directly. Instead, you give me a random reply like… throwing a bottle of scotch—”

“That wasn’t random. That was true.”

“Okay, then it was a stupid reply. Or you divert the question by saying my eyes are pretty. But you never give me an honest response, so how do you expect me to love you in return when I scarcely know who you are?”

His eyes reflect so much hurt, one would think I just stabbed him with a serrated blade. “Ask me something now,” he demands. “I’ll answer it. Honestly.”

I want to question him about NeuroQueue, but I can’t. It would give me away. Instead, I query, “Where is your family?”

Instantly, he’s uncomfortable. Looking away, he reluctantly replies, “My mother died when I was ten. My father died when I was seventeen. I’m an only child, and I don’t keep in touch with other relatives.”

“Are you lonely?”

“Sometimes,” he admits. “I’m used to it, though. The Titans are my family.” He gestures absently to the rest of the room. “They’re more than enough to occupy me. And… now I have you.”

The corners of my lips twitch from the arrogance in that statement. My next observation is volatile, but I’m determined to get my point across, “Project NeuroQueue will be completed in less than two weeks, and then I’m going home.”

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At first, he’s stoic, like he didn’t hear what I said. But rapidly, his appearance devolves into animalistic rage, and not only do we stop dancing, but Huxley pulls—no, wrenches—me off the dance floor. Despite the violent maneuver, fewer eyes are on us compared to before, as most dancers are too engrossed in what they’re doing to spectate. Others are nibbling on snacks, or drunk, and no one follows while Huxley wrests me out of the ballroom and into the nearest empty corridor. My back slams against the wall, and Huxley’s body detains me there. “Say that again,” he dares.

I’m shivering, yet I undertake his dare, and his eyes grow darker with each syllable.

“No,” he says when I’m done.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“You’re not leaving.”

“We had a deal.”

“I’m reopening that deal.”

“I—” Excuse me? “What about the Cosmic Code of Honor?”

His jaw ticks. “Who told you about that?”

“I do my research,” I lie.

“You’re not Cosmic, so it doesn’t apply.”

My hands become fists. “How long will it take me to achieve Cosmic status?”

He requires a full minute to answer as he picks a time that is long enough for him to obtain what he desires, but not too long, else it scares me off. “A year.”

It scares me off anyway. I laugh. He’s crazy. Yet I know that already, so why am I surprised?

“A year,” he reiterates. “And in turn, I’ll give you anything you want. Money? Spaceships? Real estate?”

I shake my head. “I want to go home within the next two weeks.”

“Ailee…” The anger succumbs to desperation. “I can buy you a dog from Earth. We don’t permit dogs on Titan, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

I’m ashamed to witness him like this, even though I shouldn’t be. “Are you afraid that I’ll reveal the location of—”

“God damn it, Ailee!” he explodes, his palm striking the wall beside my head so hard my body vibrates. “How many times do I have to tell you? I love you! I want you here, with me. Nobody who leaves ever finds this place without my assistance anyway, so that’s a moot point!”

“Are we still sane out here?” an accented voice inquires, and a man in a pinstripe suit rounds the corner. Felix is here, and I’m hoping his presence dwindles the probability of Huxley murdering me on the spot.

“Ugh,” Huxley complains, “go away, Oringo. This is a private conversation.”

“Private? Out in the open? A conversation?” questions Felix mischievously, then his eyes narrow. “You’re holding her a little too tightly there, mate.”

Huxley and I look down at the same time. While his right hand remains on the wall, his left is gripping my upper arm like a clamp, restricting movement. Without delay, he lets go, and my arm tingles as blood flow returns. Yellow marks in the shape of his fingers become red and aggravated. “Shit,” he whispers. “I messed up again. I’m so sorry.” He leans forward to rest his lips on my shoulder. He doesn’t touch me anywhere else. “Please don’t leave.”

“Aw, she’s not going anywhere,” Felix states, slapping Huxley on the shoulder. “Are you, Ailee?”

Felix nods at me, and because I know I need to stay here for at least another three weeks, I say, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just homesick. I’ll take a month to think about… your new deal.” My stomach turns. “I think I’m done for the night. I’ll see you guys later.” Since Huxley isn’t restraining me anymore, I easily slip past him and Felix, heading to the elevators.

“Wait—” I hear Huxley object behind me.

“Let her go,” Felix interrupts in a soft tone. “She simply requires some time to process your grand declaration of love. She’ll come around.”

As I get closer to my room, the irritation in me multiplies. By the time I’m inside and shutting the door, I’m enraged. I’m not angry that Huxley shoved me against the wall. I’m not angry that he tore up our old deal. I’m not even angry that Felix insinuated I’ll eventually love Huxley back given enough time. No. I’m angry that Huxley told me he loves me, because what the hell do I do with that information?

The reason I initially stated that I wanted to go home was to make clear that Huxley doesn’t really know what love is. Look at how he reacted; he didn’t even give me the choice. He went back on his word, and if we were in the UE, I would sue him. But at the end of the day… I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t get my point across, because that would’ve been too harsh. However, it doesn’t alter the reality that I can’t be with Huxley. With Boss. Not after what I found out. Maybe we could’ve been together on some other plane of existence… if he was different… but I cannot allow myself to go down this path of thought.

I can’t allow myself to love him, for I don’t want to love him. I don’t want him to love me.

Because I’ll destroy him.

And duplicity will only sting more coming from me.

With this knowledge, I sprint into my bathroom, and throw up everything I ate today.