She’s a complete wildcard.
Merci lets out a heavy sigh, slumping back in his seat. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The one where you go all robot mode and act like you’re not freaking out when you clearly are.” He turns to face me, his lavender eyes studying my face. "Pretty sure your jaw's about to shatter from clenching it so hard."
“I’m not freaking out.” It’s technically true. I don’t panic like others do. I analyze. Calculate outcomes. Plan contingencies. Even if my physical responses aren’t as logical.
"Uh-huh." He snorts, lips quirking up at the corners. "You're such a shit liar. It's almost adorable."
I don’t respond. Instead, I check the rearview mirror where Connor's Maserati Grecale Folgore follows. Myfriends decided we needed backup—or what they call "support"—so they invited themselves along.
Merci shifts in his seat, picking at his pants as if trying to remove some invisible piece of lint. “Do you think they’ll hate us?”
I glance at his face, taking in his furrowed brow and the way he worries his bottom lip. My hand finds his knee, stilling its constant motion. "They'll deal with it."
His eyes meet mine, softening slightly. "Youreallybelieve that?"
"I'm not letting you go. So they don't get a choice."
Ahead, the mansion's iron gates appear. I pull up, punch in the code, and the they swing open with a mechanical whir.
We come to a stop beside my stepmother's Mercedes, Connor right behind us. After cutting the engine, I turn to Merci. "Ready?"
"Fuck no." Merci exhales sharply, unbuckling his seat belt. "But let's do this anyway."
We step out just as another car door slams, our friends emerging from Connor’s SUV. Jackson immediately stretches, groaning dramatically. "Can't believe Walsh made me sit in the back like some peasant."
Viktor snorts, adjusting his jacket. "Please. You just wanted to annoy the shit out of everyone with your stupid taste in music."
“Excuse me? Thought you’d like 80’s music since you know . . . your boyfriend is old.”
Instead of engaging, I stride ahead up the stone path toward the front door.
“Hey, asshole.”
Merci’s clipped tone makes me pause mid-step. I glance over my shoulder to where he’s standing with one hand planted on his hip. “Yes, Little Scorpion?”
Viktor snorts. “Damn, forgot the mouth he has on him.”
“Shut it, Fungus. You’re damaging my calm.” Merci gives him the finger as he walks over to me, leaning against my side.
Connor shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Hate to break it to you, Merci, but you wouldn't know calm if it slapped you in the face."
Viktor rocks back on his heels, his insufferable smirk growing wider by the second. "This is going to be an interesting dinner."
Merci huffs, rolling both his eyes and head. "Don't you have a boyfriend to harass?"
"He's with Coach Rinni.” Viktor walks over and drapes an arm across my shoulder, grinning when Merci's eyes narrow. “Besides, you think I'd miss this trainwreck? Not a chance in hell."
"If you don't remove your arm in the next three seconds, I’ll find the nearest chainsaw and turn your fingers into lovely wall decorations." Merci taps his chin, looking up at the sky. "I'm thinking above our parents’ fireplace. It’ll really tie the room together."
"Aw, still so possessive." Viktor squeezes my shoulder once before letting go. "It's adorable."
Merci's lips curve into a razor-sharp smile, all teeth and promised violence. "Keep touching him, and I'll make sure your boyfriend finds pieces of you packaged with pretty little bows."
Jackson snickers behind us. "Five bucks says Merci tries to kick him in the face again."
