Page 172 of A Vicious Love

I drew her a fraction closer, because apparently I had decided to set my self-control on fire in public.

She did not step away. My chest did that flutter thing again. Reeves had told me wasn’t a medical emergency. It was still inconvenient.

Very carefully, I adjusted the coat collar higher around her neck and held it there with both hands so the wind couldn’t get in.

The gesture felt intimate in a way that had no right to affect me. I had tied women up and felt less.

Of course, those women had not been Sienna Bellemere standing wearing a coat I had bought like a lunatic because my fiancée shivered on a camera feed.

“Better?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Good.”

Stopped before I added girl.

There.

Another achievement.

Someone should write this down.

Reeves stood a small distance away, looking at the building.

“Where do you practice?” I asked.

Sienna blinked. “What?”

“The studio. Which room?”

“Usually Studio Two. Sometimes Three.”

I looked toward the entrance.

The building was older than I liked. Brick façade. Pretty windows. Terrible security angles. Too much glass near the front. The door had an electronic lock, but the frame looked like it could be kicked in by an enthusiastic teenager.

Unacceptable.

“Show me.”

Her eyes widened a little. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“They haven’t cleared everyone to go back in yet.”

I looked at Reeves.

Reeves immediately turned to the marshal.

“Jamison.” Sienna said softly.

“What?”

“You can’t just⁠—”

The marshal looked over, saw me, and seemed to age three years in one second. Reeves spoke quietly to him.