Page 25 of The One-Night Heist

Not like how I’ve been lied to.

Thankfully, my unnecessarily aggressive display didn’t make him shut down again. Instead, he patted my arm like one might placate a misbehaving dog.

“I’m not judging, Giano, promise. But if you’re gonna lie like that to a mark, you need to keep track of what you’ve said—otherwise, you’ll get caught.”

My mark?

Oh… he means the victim… of my crimes.

This realization had me releasing him like I’d been burned, but then the car door abruptly opened behind me.

“We’ve arrived, Mr. Luxford.”

“Yes, t-thank you…” I grimaced apologetically at Scott as I exited the car, since I didn’t usually make him open the door for me. “Sorry about that. I got distracted by the conversation…”

“Very good, sir.” My family’s longtime chauffeur warmly smiled, nodding at Rowen as he stepped out onto the brick drive of The Luxford’s porte-cochère and walked to the grand entrance. “Shall I wait here or return at a specific time?”

I could feel Rowen watching me from where he stood, so I gave the only answer I could think of to hide how badly I didn’t want “drinks” to end anytime soon.

Another little white lie.

“Why don’t you head home for the night, Scott.” I politely inclined my head in lieu of a handshake. “I’ll call for a car for both me and Mr. Quincy once we’re done here. Separate cars I mean! Two cars…”

Sigh.

Scott was far too professional to draw attention to my slip-up, but I caught a ghost of a smile as he turned and climbed into the car before driving away.

“I take it back!” Rowen called out. “You suck at lying.”

It’s true.

I huffed a laugh, but neither confirmed nor denied the implications. Striding across the bricks, I opened the heavy gold door leading to the lobby before waving him through. Again, he tensed, recovering quickly but not fast enough for me to miss what the problem here was.

He’s not used to kindness.

No, that’s not it…

He’s not used to care.

Even though I was the furthest thing from “nurtured” myself—aside from Franz’ overbearing attention—the thought of no one properly caring for Rowen ever set my teeth on edge.

“This way.” I grasped his elbow and dragged him along as gently as possible considering my near-blinding need to get us to the Grille Room as quickly as possible. “My usual table will be ready for us.”

“Ohhh… so you made a dinner reservation for our date, did you?” he cooed as we sped across the marble floor, allowing me to act like a caveman for some inexplicable reason. “Did you get us a room too?”

I skidded to a stop by a blessedly empty seating area, finding myself scrambling for an explanation once again. “The table is permanently reserved for me, or any Luxford Holdings shareholders who request it.” Realizing I was still clutching his elbow, I released him and swallowed thickly. “And no, I did not get us a… room.”

Although I could.

“I was just teasing you, Giano. For the record though…” Rowen traced a finger down the lapel of my suit jacket. “I wouldn’t be opposed to you getting us a room.” When I didn’t reply—too stunned to speak—he took a step back with both hands raised in front of him. “Unless I’ve totally misread the situation⁠—”

“No!” I replied, louder than I intended in the cavernous space. “You haven’t misread anything. I’m simply trying⁠—”

“To keep things professional between us?” he offered, looking close to laughter at my expense once again.

“To have manners, Rowen,” I sighed, straightening my tie and hoping my embarrassment over how awkward I was behaving wasn’t obvious.

I feel like a fumbling teenager!