Page 169 of A Vicious Love

People moved out of my way. That was one of the few reliable pleasures left in modern society.

Sienna’s hand tightened around the strap of her ballet bag.

“Jamison,” she said.

“You’re cold.”

She blinked, then glanced down as if I had accused her of something. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

Her mouth parted slightly.

I held out the coat. “Put this on.”

“Oh.” She looked at it. Then at me. “You didn’t have to⁠—”

“Put it on, Sienna.”

The words came out sharper than intended. Her shoulders tightened. My jaw clenched.

Wonderful.

I had been in front of her for nine seconds and already sounded like I was giving orders to a hostage negotiator.

I forced my voice lower.

“Please.”

She stared at me for a heartbeat, then carefully took the coat. I moved before she could struggle with it.

“Here.” I stepped behind her.

I held the coat open, and after a small hesitation, she slid one arm in, then the other.

Mine.

I pulled the coat carefully into place and belted it at her waist before I remembered normal men did not dress women they had not properly apologized to in the middle of a pavement while pretending this was not the highlight of their day.

Too late.

The belt was tied. She looked utterly perfect in it. Warm. Very fucking mine.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly.

I should have said, So are you. Instead, I looked toward the building and said, “This place is a fucking liability.”

Close enough.

“They said it was just the alarm.” She murmured.

“They always say it is just the alarm before the building kills someone.”

A dancer nearby stared.

I stared back. Do not interrupt my emotional communication time with my fiancé. The dancer had no idea how costly this moment was going to be for other people.

She looked away.