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“I’d love you to be involved in the party planning,” she said with a significant raise of her eyebrows. “It’s your party, after all.”
I shifted a nervous look to Kael, wondering if he was catching onto the significance of any of this. I desperately hoped not. If he knew, he’d cart me out of here in five seconds flat, and then my hopes of being free would be dashed. It was possible he wouldn’t, of course. There was a chance he’d take that revelation in stride, but I had a pretty good read on Kael. I didn’t think he would let me stay after learning what was really going on. What was really at stake.
A memory of a knife, of a thin stream of blood pouring from my arm surfaced in my mind, and it stole my breath. No, I thought with sudden panic. No, he can’t know. Don’t give it away.
I edged away toward the stairs. “Sure. Whatever you think will help.”
“Your father and I are leaving for a trip to the winery in Bordeaux this afternoon,” she explained. “We’d love to have you join us. You could help choose the wine, and Jonathon will be there, of course.”
Jonathon. Of course, it would be him. I’d rather choke on a cork. “Oh, I don’t really like wine,” I shrugged. “But I could choose the… napkins. Or something.” As I backed away, I came in contact with Kael’s immovable body, and his hands steadied me before I could run into him. Whether he meant it on purpose or not, it imbued me with some calm.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Alicia pressed with a pout of her magenta-stained lips. God, she looked like a fucking vampire. “We’re trying a fifty-thousand-dollar bottle of Chambolle-Musigny,” she added, like she was offering a sugar cube to a cranky horse.
My patience snapped with an internal crack. “Mom, if I wanted to put fifty thousand dollars in my mouth, I’d hire a prostitu—”
Kael cleared his throat, gripping my arms hard.
I bit the inside of my mouth as my mother’s gaze fell into a hard glint. It was nearly impossible not to lash out at this witch. I was a person, not a fucking saint. With a gargantuan effort, I relaxed my shoulders and molded my voice into the spoiled socialite my mother wished I was. “I mean, seriously, no thanks. France in October? Boring.”
Alicia swung a slow, grateful gaze over my head to Kael. Christ, she probably wanted to adopt him and switch me out. “Well. We will see you on Sunday, then. Family dinner?”
Barf. “Sure.”
Kael and I went back upstairs, and as soon as the door to my apartment snicked shut, Kael rounded an irritated glower on me. “What was that?”
“She’s insufferable,” I growled, stalking across the small living space and going to the kitchen.
He hooked an arm around my waist, and with no effort at all, spun me around to face him. He took hold of my forearm and held my wrist up to eye level, reminding me of the red marks from a week ago. “Stop putting me in a position to discipline you in front of your parents.”
“I thought you liked disciplining me,” I threw back with wide, mockingly innocent eyes.
“Mattie,” he barked. He looked less amused than I’d ever seen him, and it sobered me. His dark hair looked slightly disheveled, which actually worked with his usual vibe with the necklace and leather bracelets he wore. But it wasn’t his norm. He looked… disturbed. I wanted to smooth the silver hair above his ears and tell him to chill. “How can you be so unfazed by this situation? Stop being so careless.”
Because if I take it seriously, I’ll be in a constant state of panic attacks. Because if I think about what’s really at stake—if I think about the man in France—I’ll devolve into a blabbering, frothing-at-the-mouth mess. “Alright, I’m sorry. She just brings out the worst in me.”
“I bring out the worst in you,” he grouched, dropping my wrist and stalking away as he undid the leather clips around his utility belt. “One of these days you’re going to force me to actually make a demonstration to them, and I swear to God, Mattie,” he shot over his shoulder, hooking me with a furious glare, “I will not forgive you for that.”
My mouth curved up. “Why? Because you like me?”
“If I didn’t like you, do you think I’d be playing nanny to you?” he drawled. Kael threw his heavy belt onto the marble countertop and stretched. His muscles bunched and rippled, straining against the white button-down and almost tugging out of the waistband of his black pants. My mouth watered. What would it be like to watch that hem keep… rising… all the way up? I was dying to see if his tattoos snaked all the way down to his hips and below. I'd tried to look when he'd walked out from the shower, but it had been too dark, then. I wanted to study his tattoos and maybe run my hands over a few, well-sculpted abs…
But, of course, Kael had been frustratingly careful to keep me from accidentally getting a peek of his shirtless body again. He worked out in the apartment building gym so early, I didn’t bother waking up to catch him. And anyway, I knew he wore tank tops and shorts. We didn’t share bathrooms, so all in all, it had been monotonously chaste.
Damn him.
He leaned against the counter, sighing, and turned his piercing eyes back to me where I stood there salivating like a moron. “They’re leaving for France in a couple hours, then.”
My attention snapped back to reality. “Yep,” I agreed, my voice still dazed. “Seems like our best chance.”
Kael rubbed his lower back, and I’d noticed him doing that before. Usually only after he’d worked out or after sitting on the couch for too long. My eyes tracked the movement before flicking back up to his face. Kael’s mouth stretched in a smile. “Where’s the old guy joke?”
“Percolating.”
“I got shot,” he admitted, bending forward and bracing his weight on the counter as he stretched. “A long time ago, but it bugs me sometimes.”
“Seriously?” I crossed the room to join him in the kitchen. I’d put on a black denim mini skirt with burgundy tights underneath, and I rolled up the sleeves of my white sweater before hiking myself onto the counter to sit next to him. “Sounds like a good story.”
“Not really,” he chuckled. “I probably shouldn’t be giving you personal information about me. You’ll use it to take me down.”
