Page 47 of Unlock My Heart

Throwing it in park, I help her out of the car. “You can hang out while I handle some business.” And maybe I’m hoping Michele catches wind of my victory lap with Sienna.

Nic may be a saint, but I am fucking not.

“If this is ‘hostess’ business, then I’m coming with you.” She stabs me in the chest with her finger.

“Look at you getting all jealous.” A ridiculous grin stretches my face as I snatch her wrist, bringing her fingers to my mouth and pressing a kiss on the pads. “I promise, I’m not involved with the day-to-day stuff.”

Sienna narrows her eyes. “It’s not the day-to-day ‘stuff’ I’m concerned with.”

That gets a chuckle out of me. “Promise you, I have no interest in those girls.”

“So you’ve never paid for a girl, besides me?” Her eyes search mine.

“Never paid for a girl, period,” I correct her. “We didn’t fuck during our time; that’s not revisionist history, but fact.”

The sound of a brass band drawing near has Sienna tilting her head. “What’s that?”

Taking her delicate hand in mine, I lead her out of the alley and to the sidewalk. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the bride and groom twirling umbrellas in the middle of the street. The band plays a bluesy tune while guests follow in the back of the procession, waving handkerchiefs overhead.

“Second line. A New Orleans wedding tradition,” I say against her ear.

As if fate hasn’t been subtle enough, it’s like being hit over the head with a trumpet. Without a doubt, I’m going to marry this woman.

The realization unfurls in my chest. No panic. No fear. Just the steady rhythm of my heart.

Sienna’s unusual eyes fix on mine, searching, probing, as if she can pluck the thoughts from my mind. “Aren’t you scared we’re moving too fast?”

“No. You?”

She considers thoughtfully. “No, but I feel like I should be.”

“Come to Sunday dinner with me and meet my family.”

She shakes her head with a little laugh. “I tell you that I should be scared we’re moving too fast, and you double down.”

“A man knows when he has a winning hand.” My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I mentally curse, remembering why we’re here. “Let’s go.”

Leading her inside the hotel and to the front desk, I tell the clerk, “Presidential suite.”

“Yes, Mr. Calvani,” the woman says quickly, handing over the keycards.

Sienna’s mouth is hanging open as I usher her to the private elevator and scan one of the cards, placing it in her hands as I pocket the other. “Order room service and chill, and I’ll meet you in a little bit.”

Before she can argue, I shoo her into the elevator, pressing the close button.

With a spring in my step, I enter the lounge, finding Ringer seated alone in a booth. Nic catches my eye, and I signal for him to hang tight as I make my way to the back.

Ringer pretends he doesn’t see me as I approach. “Welcome to NOLA, Agent Ringer. Or should I say, Special Agent in Charge Ringer. Big congrats.”

“Do I know you?” Ringer says in a disinterested tone, swirling the amber liquid in his tumbler.

Like he fucking doesn’t know who I am.

“Fabien Calvani.” I extend my hand, and we shake. Figured he’d have a limp noodle of a handshake, but the man tries to outmuscle me. I let him, only because it’s funny that he thinks he could.

“Calvani, Calvani,” he says, like he’s trying to place the name.

“We can cut to the chase, Ringer,” I inform him. “Let’s take a walk outside and grab a smoke. Have a chat.” In the event the fucker’s bugged the table.