Your lipstick dangles high, held by Othellio Blackwell—your accomplished enemy. His family has arranged your marriage, and this date is their way of starting it.

In the back of his car, his driver ignoring the both of you, Othellio refused to return your lipstick until you begged. “Fine,” he said.

Suspicious, you reapply the lipstick. He grabs your jaw, your lips meet, his thumb smudging the product down your chin. He pulls away, a red tint on his lips with a proud smirk.