“Just the right amount!” Rowena replied, laughing.
“We had a really, really nice day, and we maybe had a lot to drink, but I’m super okay,” Jimmy said. “Thank you. Seriously. For everything.”
He adored how warmly Cold was looking at him, and Jimmy was suddenly consumed by the desire to peel that suit right off, and get on top of him, and oh, mmph. Shit. Not now. Focus. He had to focus.
Talk. He needed to talk.
Augustus.
Jimmy pulled himself out of his lustful daze, licking his lips as he said cautiously, “Could we maybe... talk? Somewhere private?”
“So eager, are we?” Cold snorted, misreading his request as he watched Jimmy’s tongue. “Later. Right now, you’re to be seen, not heard. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy replied quietly.
Rowena was cutting up lemons, interrupting as she demanded, “Where the hell is everyone? Or are they all late, too?”
“Believe it or not, dear sister, you’re the first ones here,” Cold drawled, his hand still resting on Jimmy’s neck and petting his hair softly. He nodded toward the nearest sofa, wordlessly urging him to go sit down.
Jimmy mourned the loss of contact, but he obeyed, taking a seat on the couch nearest Cold. There was a loud commotion from somewhere off in the mansion, Cold tilting his head as his sister brought him a drink.
“Mmm, not anymore.”
Jules Price came barging in, no jacket, no tie, and his shirt was distinctly singed across the front. He was grinning, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Jimmy lounging on the sofa. He burst into a hearty laugh. “Hey! Twig! Comin’ on up in the world.”
Jimmy waved awkwardly, remembering Cold’s command about staying quiet.
Jules gave Cold a smug smile, grinning slyly as he teased, “You’re so full of shit.”
“Fuck off, Jules,” Cold said affectionately. “Have a drink.”
Jimmy briefly wondered what Jules was taunting Cold about, but kept his curiosity to himself.
Rowena was enjoying her role as bartender, pouring a tumbler of something dark, maybe whiskey. “Hey, Jules!” she said, offering out the drink.
“Heya, Roe,” Jules rumbled, grabbing the glass and knocking it back in one go. Rowena refilled it and he drank it again with a happy hiss. “Damn, hit me again.”
“Easy, tiger,” Rowena teased, topping him off once more.
“Any sign of the guest of honor?” Cold drawled.
“Oh, yeah, he’s here. Last I saw him, he had Lorre ass-up in the back of his Nova,” Jules chuckled, choosing to sip his drink now instead of chugging it.
“Aw, so they’re getting back together?” Rowena said, sounding hopeful.
“Didn’t think Lorre had ever gotten around to apologizing,” Cold said with a faint smirk.
“Ass-up ain’t a bad way to start apologizing,” Jules said. “Fuck if I know, though.”
Jimmy watched the three of them interact, the camaraderie and love obvious between them all. They really were a family. He still wasn’t sure how Jules fit, but it was clear that he belonged with the Legrand siblings.
Rowena came around the bar, bringing a fruity-looking cocktail to Jimmy. “Here ya go, sweetie.” She winked playfully.
Jimmy mouthed his gratitude, smiling happily. He could handle this. It was just a little party. Nothing to freak out over.
Then he saw a familiar face walk in, and maybe, just maybe, it was okay to freak out a little bit.
Mickey Tamerlane appeared at the doorway, as silent as his nickname—The Shadow—his dark eyes roaming over the room. His face was blank, his mouth drawn tight in serious concentration.
