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“I’m going out,” I announce into the air.

Fabien stops typing. He raises those dark eyes up to meet mine. He still doesn’t say a word, but his stare sears through me like a brand. He wouldn’t be able to ignore me even if he tried.

“I’m going to spend the evening with a friend. I’ll be back in time so that we can still complete the task’s requirements.”

Fabien knows who Sylvie is, of course, but I want to withhold that information from him. Let him worry.

“I have no reason to stop you,” Fabien replies coldly. “As long as you fulfill your end of the task.”

“Yep.”

I turn on my heels and head straight back into the bedroom to get ready.

Yeah, anything to get out of this penthouse.

And when I reemerge, in a dress I haven’t worn in months, but which makes me feel on top of the world and alive and sexy, Fabien pauses when he sees me.

His eyes don’t match mine, for once. Instead, his gaze travels down my body in a sweep following the line of my dress. Down my curves.

And then he sharply looks away, back to the computer, as if admonishing himself for daring to linger.

My chest suddenly tightens. I enjoy having power over his attention. It’s like I’ve presented myself to him, and Fabien took that opportunity to look. Undeniably, his gaze was charged with something strong.

“Make sure you hold up your end of the task, Jolie,” he mutters behind me as I step out the door.

18

JOLIE

“Hello, you.”

Sylvie wraps her arms around me in a big hug. Behind her, the music from the exclusive Midtown nightclub reverberates out into the night. Beside us, a line of people that stretches around the block waits to be let in.

This is the place to be if you’re young and alive in the city.

“Bonjour, Sylvie. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Sylvie smiles her dazzling smile at me, grabs my hand, and leads me into the nightclub. The bouncers nod at us to go through. They know Sylvie. Her father probably owns this joint.

A textbook example of poise and class, my friend is so beautiful and radiant. With warm hazel eyes, her hair is platinum blonde, straight, and sleek.

Still holding my hand, Sylvie guides me to a standing table away from the blaring music. We rest our arms on the table and smile warmly at each other, happy just to be in each other’s presence. Elise has been held up in traffic, but she’s on her way.

“How are you?” I ask my friend.

“Good.”

“Really? There must be a reason you messaged me. Spit it out, girl.”

Sylvie sucks in a sharp breath.

“You know... this whole Masked Killer thing? It’s been tough. Baptiste has been trying his best. After what happened in New Orleans, we’ve both been on edge. Everything is so serious and so life-or-death at the moment. I don’t want to think about it for one night.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

Yeah, no wonder Sylvie’s stressed out when a freaking murderer nearly got her husband.

“And how are you, Jolie?” she asks.