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Her smile haunts me long after I force myself to set my laptop aside and switch off the lamp light. Flying from one end of the room to the other, Bugsy trills, perching somewhere on my dresser and knocking on the wood with his beak. He garbles, “It’s bedtime, Bugsy. Settle down. Settle down.” A trill, then, “Do you want to lose a finger—or a toe?”
I sigh.
Lethal. Unafraid. Confident.
Happy.
Somehow, I need to package Briar’s essence up and use it to turn this fractured family around.
♠
Fingers laced atop my office desk, I watch Briar and maintain my composure. I understand what I’m asking of her is unreasonable, but the stricken look she’s giving me creates a solid unease in my gut.
Smile choked away, her wide blue eyes fix on me—aghast.
Internally, I put a tick next to my name on a mental scoreboard. For some inane reason, subverting her expectations and leaving her speechless feels like the biggest win I’ve had in months. Maybe years. “Was I unclear?” I ask. “Or does this request make you uncomfortable?”
Her shoulders bunch as she lifts her delicate hands to her lips.
A shock spears through me, and I erase my imaginary win.
“You want me to move in with you?” Her eyes gloss, shining. “Oh, baby. You do love me.”
The back of my throat stings, and for the first time since I assembled this dastardly plan, I am second-guessing my sanity.
I didn’t plan this. Somehow, she did. But if that is the case, why?
I thought I knew my reasoning—keep her close enough to study, see if her magic might extend to my family while she’s here—but what in the world could her reasoning be?
Why would anyone want to move into a volatile base? We don’t know how long we’ll be chasing the Maxim Project. Who in their right mind would agree to live with someone they barely know atop a minefield of uncertain characters?
Is this the power of an extrovert? Do they just willy-nilly go with whatever flow as they strike up conversations with grocery store clerks?
Briar begins pacing. “I’ll need to pack, tell Lace, situate a place for Cupcake to stay with me.” She sets a finger against her chin. “I should bring Chip, but separating him and Lace won’t go over well, and she needs to take care of things in my absence.” Laughter bubbles out of her, straightening the hairs on the back of my neck. “Oh, who am I kidding? We should begin merging our families anyway. With Granger and that riffraff gone, there’s plenty of room here for new members. We can do an exchange. Lace can come here. Aster can manage The Giungla in our absence. Everyone can begin familiarizing themselves with one another. Then, by the time the wedding rolls around, we’ll already be one big happy family.”
I bristle. She’s delusional. Is that part of the magic? Delusion? “Briar, I am only inviting you. For a limited time. And our involvement ends after we subdue the Maxim Project.”
“Of course. Of course.” Her lips part as her gaze darts to me. “But you said, ‘Beloved, I cannot bear that we are apart any longer. Move in with me.’”
I said, I need to keep an eye on you. Make arrangements to move in.
Sagging, I plaster my hand to my eyes and wonder why I thought this was a good idea. Possibly, it has something to do with the consistent three hours of sleep I’ve gotten every night for eight days.
Last week’s situation with Granger has left me scrambling to reassemble my routines and balance this family yet again. Choosing to nix our most profitable rackets after my parents vanished was tricky enough. Managing to get above water after losing yet another chunk of manpower is another thing entirely.
Throughout every number crunch and realignment, my brain fixated on Briar and a single, pertinent question concerning her: How?
How does she do everything she does while looking like a pixie stick? How does she get her family to respect her every whim? How does she convince her leading officers to sit through PowerPoints about theme parks? How, how, how?
So, somewhere in the exhaustion, I made a decision I already regret.
If the princess is allowed to take me on picnics, drag me to theme parks, and make herself my fake fiancee, I, too, can impose preposterous demands.
The goal is simple: I want family. Loyalty. Laughter. Uncanny warmth in the darkest places.
Something like stability.
I want The Casa to feel as safe as The Giungla.
