“Fast and loose. You used it correctly.” He’s beaming as if my name were just called for an Oscar.
“I win a case, and you’re more excited that I got a phrase correct?”
“You’ve won a fuck ton of cases, Merce. That was expected. You are a brilliant lawyer.”
“But?” I squint my eyes in mock offense at the insinuation.
He tilts his head, lips pinned and at war with a demented grin trying to break free. “Let’s just concentrate on the wins.” He chuckles, towing me toward the front of the courthouse and glancing at his watch. “Look at the time. We’ve gotta go.”
Dismissing his gibe, I shift to our plans. “Speaking of time, let me check and see if Emma texted, and if not, I’ll see if they’re ready early.”
My cell phone is ondo not disturbmode because Judge Nicholson is absurdly strict about interruptions. But no texts from Emma came in anyway, so I send her a quick one as we stride to the exit, our shoes casting a resoundingclick-clackecho.
Since Ryker has ten guards scattered around the courthouse for my protection, one of them meets us out front with Ryker’s Aston Martin Vanquish. As we prepare to slide in, he hops out and gets into another guard’s car to follow us.
Pinpricks of apprehension sting my skin as we get closer to the resort. I understand that Bryce being a member of La Lune Noire won’t immediately have him committing crimes, but I can’t help thinking about my parents. My father was a good man, who was part of an organization that did questionable things. Maybe he didn’t think it was a big deal to fabricate something on the stand. But I’m guessing the gravity of his choices hit when my mother became a victim.
Maybe that thought is upside down, considering I’m engaged to Ryker Noire—fake or real, I’m not sure since we haven’t discussed that. Either way, I’ve known who Ryker was since we were teens. Well, not at first. But after we met at the playground a few times, I finally asked him his last name since it was clear we were going to be friends.
And I understood the gravity of that name even more when my parents’ eyebrows rose and they repeated it slowly. They had a lively discussion about our friendship, but eventually, they let him hang out at our house, which he did. A lot.
After a few months, when it was clear he was sticking around, I was allowed to go to his too. And when his parents died and Ryker told me it was best for me to go away to college and notlook back, I think they both knew how devastating the loss was for me and felt it too.
The point of that being, when I returned from college, I knew who I was befriending. I knew what being close to him meant then, just like I know what it means now.For me.And I’m choosing it. Because Ryker’s shady lifestyle is a far safer choice for Remy and me than the white picket fence with the governor’s son was. Emotionally, it’s safer than Sinclair, Canada, ever was too.
But Emma won’t ever feel that way. Forcing her into a life that could have irreparable consequences is deplorable.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s the equivalent of my father falsely testifying on a stand. Maybe that’s a stretch, but he probably justified that action, believed that deceitfulness was acceptable for some reason. Blind to the impending doom it would instigate for so many lives.
“If something happens to Emma because of this—”
“Nothing is going to happen to Emma because you defend her fiancé.” Ryker has one hand on the steering wheel and one on my thigh as he peers at me with lazy charm that is enchanting. And irksome.
“Of course not.” My glare conveys all the acrid aggravation I intend. “I was referring to the endgame.”
“Ahh.” His attention floats back to the road, glancing in the rearview mirror as he changes lanes. “Well, I might not even offer the membership. It all depends on what he has for me. We don’t give those away for nothing. He’ll need to deliver. One step at a time. Everything comes down to risk versus reward. If he can get us answers about what was bothering Trafton or who the hell could’ve sent that email, then the risks will be worth it because this will all be put behind us. I’ll even advise him on some security to keep Emma safe if it comes to that.”
“Okay.” My chest has a two-ton white rhinoceros stomping on it, and yet somehow, every remaining breath in my lungs finds a way to mutate into manic ramblings. “I just don’t think I could handle it or thatwecould survive it if something happened to her or even him because of … I’m trying, and you deserve to have someone by your side who can slide into these situations seamlessly. I want to be that. You’ve done so much for me. I don’t even know if I love being in the courtroom anymore. Although I like the idea of giving it one more go. And since you’ll set everything up, it’s not like there’s any reason to be nervous about the outcome, I guess. I just feel really good about us. And stronger than I have in a long time. Excited for how well Remy is adjusting. And I … if I do this and—”
“Merce, look at me.” He clutches my fidgeting hands, his thumb dusting over my engagement ring and his focus darting between me and the road. “You don’t have to represent him in court if you decide you don’t want to. You’re already everything I need, so put that thought out of your head. One day at a time. Today, we’re just making a connection.”
“Right. A connection. Okay.”
“And for the record, we can survive anything. We’ve already proven that.” His confidence bleeds through every word, but an uneasy twinge churns in my gut.
An hour later, we’re tucked into a booth in the reserved area of L’ange Noire with Emma and Bryce. This is the fancier of the two public restaurants at La Lune Noire. Aside from the openings maintained for the owners and their special guests, they’re always full. It draws a crowd for the exquisite French cuisine, the elegant atmosphere, and the peek at what lies beyond.
The Corpse Reviver Cabaret is located below the restaurant, and a portion of the door to be let in is visible to L’ange Noire guests. The occasional swing of the heavy wood, admitting entrance, without experiencing what transpires within is a mystery that sells. And while the cabaret isn’t open to the public, it also isn’t a place where members do much business. So, on occasion, a random table may be offered the opportunity to venture into the coveted entertaining speakeasy. It brings patrons back again and again, their mouths watering from both the delectable dishes and the chance at an invite.
My nerves dissipate swiftly from the carefree conversation that the four of us immediately melt into and the soothing ambience—candles on the tables, the hum of quiet chatting, instrumental jazz piped through the speakers, and the comforting aromas of butter and herbs, rich creams and crusty bread. I still feel uneasy about my role, but theone day at a timeapproach is working.
Emma swoons over tales of the Prohibition Ball and my suite full of dresses all through our meal, and I listen to her detail their wedding plans. It’s still a year away, but she has a vision, and she’s making it happen. It’s refreshing to have conversations center on joyful topics, much like they did when she met Tessa and me for lunch.
Bryce and Ryker seem to bond over music, which has always been a huge part of Noire life, so that’s a win. One I hope transcends this duplicitous dinner.
Eventually, during dessert, Emma makes a natural segue into the legal issues Bryce is having, and when she’s halfway through with the story, he takes over for her, filling us in.
“It’s been kind of a mess—and one I’m frankly embarrassed about,” Bryce finishes, pushing his crème brûlée toward Emma.
