“A house is a house.” He shifts, creating distance that Camille immediately closes.
Atlas watches the exchange, before swinging to me, his grin widening. His eyes drop to my throat, and something wicked sparks there. “Cute leash you got there.”
The room falls quiet.
My hand stops over the flower. I didn’t realize I was playing with it.
“Excuse me?”
“Your choker.” He gestures with his beer bottle. “Very… domesticated.”
Heat crawls up my neck. Camille's eyes narrow, tracking between Atlas and me. There's something there, a tension that predates this moment. She doesn't like him. Interesting.
“Isn't it?” Luce's voice cuts through, bright with mischief. She's had three drinks and her filter's slipping. “A birthday present from her handler, Asher, last year.”
Camille's perfectly sculpted eyebrows climb. “Handler?”
“Inside joke,” I say quickly, but Luce is already rolling. God dammit. Someone needs to cut her off.
“He gave it to her for her twenty-ninth.” She grins at me, oblivious to the minefield she's dancing through. “Speaking of which, the big three-oh is coming up. What are we doing? Please tell me we're not sitting around playing board games.”
Parker, who's been unusually quiet, perks up. “Your birthday's soon?”
“In three weeks.” I hiss after emptying my Whiskey. I need more.
“We should throw a party,” Camille suggests, her hand still on Asher's arm. “I know this amazing event planner in LA who could fly out—”
“Ivy doesn't do parties,” Asher interrupts, looking at me. “She prefers quiet dinners. Small groups.”
The fact that he knows this, remembers this, shouldn't matter. But Camille's fingers tighten on his biceps, and I catch the flash of calculation in her eyes.
“How sweet that you know that.” Her tone drips honey over arsenic. “You two must be close.”
Punk clears her throat from her spot on the floor. “We usually do dinner at Le Chat, Jord's restaurant, or at one of the houses.”
“Which I now partially own,” I add, needing to move this conversation away from Asher and I.
Atlas whistles low. “Moving up in the world. From what to restaurant mogul?”
Is he fishing? Huh. Probably. Mysterious woman becomes best friends with his brother. It’s valid.
“From none of your business to still none of your business.” I collect the Monopoly pieces, needing something to do with my hands.
“Feisty.” Atlas tips his beer toward me. “No wonder my brother likes—”
“Atlas.” Asher's voice cuts in. A warning.
The brothers lock eyes across the coffee table. Whatever passes between them does so silently, but Camille obviously thinks she can hear them loud and clear.
Her expression shifts from curious to sharp.
“No wonder your brother likes what?” She asks, sweet as poison.
Atlas shrugs, all innocence. “Her business acumen. Obviously.”
Jord stands, stretching theatrically. “Well, this has been fun, but I've got an early conference call tomorrow. Restaurant business never sleeps.”
“Since when do you take early calls?” I challenge, grateful for the redirect.
