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“You looking like you want me to fuck your mouth isn’t helping.”

Oh.

But I mean…

Yeah. I want that too.

“Christ, woman,” he grumbles and it’s so beleaguered that I giggle. Which has his face softening. “You’re killing me, princess.”

“Sorry,” I murmur.

“No, you’re not.”

I nibble at my bottom lip.

Because, no, I’m not sorry.

He huffs out a laugh and sits on the bed next to me. “Need to give you this,” he says, holding up a box.

A ring box.

My heart skips a beat.

“The Laurents are coming in today,” he says. “We need to make sure we’re on point.”

Right, I think a third time.

Because this is a job.

Something cold knots tightly in my middle, but I’m too busy slapping ice on top of it to really pay attention to that hardened kernel of emotion.

“Noble and I have your back,” I say softly. “I’ll handle your mom, he’ll take care of your brothers, and you’ll focus on the Laurents. We got this.” But when I hold my hand out for the box, he doesn’t pass it over.

Instead, he opens it, pulls out a true beauty of a ring I would love.

If this was real.

Which it isn’t.

He picks up my left hand, slides it down my finger, and pauses, gaze staying there for a long moment.

Then he looks up.

My breaths catches.

His eyes…

He swipes his thumb over my finger, just above the ring then pushes to his feet.

“Time to get that game face back on, baby.”

THIRTY

Ace

“Goddammit, Joan! Quit telling me I’ve had enough and just get me another fucking beer!”

Evelyn Laurent—wife of Hugo and co-owner of Maison Étoile—jumps in her seat next to me, the outburst from my dad clearly not something she’s accustomed to.