Page 306 of Don’t Say Mafia

My stomach tightened.

“I don’t think that’s any of my business,” I said, though it came out softer than I meant it to.

A corner of her mouth lifted. “That’s usually how it begins.”

Before I could press further, male voices drifted in from beyond the curtain. The change in her was subtle but immediate. Her shoulders straightened. Her hands stilled against my waist. For the briefest second, tension flickered across her face before it vanished beneath professional composure.

When she spoke again, the accent was gone entirely. “This color suits you,” she said as she stepped back. “He’ll like this one.”

Before I could respond, she turned briskly and began pulling more pieces from the rack for me to try on.

Her movements were efficient now—no more commentary or hints.

I stood there in the blue jumpsuit, staring at my reflection and trying to shake the strange feeling pooling low in my stomach.

Had she been warning me?

Jagger

I was halfway through my second coffee and pretending I wasn’t staring at the dressing room curtain longingly when the boutique door chimed. I glanced up and nearly launched the cup across the room as I shot to my feet.

“Absolutely not,” I growled.

Cruz stopped mid-step, one hand still on the door, his sunglasses pushed up into his hair like he was on vacation instead of trespassing into my morning. “Wow,” he said lightly. “No hello? No hug? You’ve lost three bestie points for your tone, Jags.” He took another lazy step forward, hands in his pockets. “You would think you’d be glad to see me. I’m always glad to see you.”

“You have five seconds to leave,” I told him flatly.

He glanced around the boutique, taking in the polished floors and the staff who were already fawning at him. “Relax. I was in the neighborhood.”

“You don’t shop.”

“I don’t,” he agreed cheerfully. “But when I saw you were here, I knew this was my chance to meet your girl.”

“Not happening.”

He grinned. “Protective. I love this version of you.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

Cruz’s eyes flicked down. “What are you doing?”

“Finding wherever you hid the tracking app,” I said through my teeth as I swiped through my settings.

He collapsed into a chair, amused. “Why do you think it’s on your phone?”

I froze, and without meaning to, my hand went to my neck.

Cruz’s grin widened. “What are you doing now?”

I ignored him, pressing along the side of my throat as I searched for a tiny surgical scar. Jace’s voice echoed in my head. When I realized I wanted to put a tracker in her neck.

Cruz watched me panic and actually laughed. “You think I injected you?”

“You’re unhinged enough,” I muttered.

He took a glass of champagne from a simpering sales associate and waved it at me. “Relax. If I did tag you, it won’t hurt you, and if I didn’t, never say never.”

“You’re going to tell me how you’re watching me,” I said evenly.