“Don’t use repetition. Let’s go with ‘NolandeLucaisaninsensitivejerk’—capital N, capital L. Do you think you can remember that?”
“Shouldn’t there be some numbers in there?”
“Length is more important.”
“Many women say girth is,” he fired back.
Ugh. “Do you ever think of anything but your dick? Literally anything?”
“I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”
It was, and this was a side of Nolan I hadn’t seen before. In Blackstone House, he used to treat me like a porcelain doll he was scared of breaking. And if I’d seen his home movie back then, I would have broken. Today, I was oddly proud of staring him down to the point of apology.
“Do better.”
Our gazes locked, and my chest grew tighter, tighter until I struggled to take in a breath.
“Nolan de Luca is an insensitive jerk,” he whispered. “Got it.”
“Good.”
“And I’m also sorry I walked away all those years ago. Not that it wasn’t necessary to avoid crossing a line that should never be crossed, but?—”
“Good morning!” Marielle bustled in with two cups in a carry-out tray and a grease-spotted paper bag. Didn’t knock, didn’t ask if this was a bad time, which it absolutely was. “I brought proper coffee and granola bars.”
“Marielle, we’re in the middle of something,” Nolan said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I just need to measure the windows. Sorry, I only brought two drinks—I didn’t realise Alexis was still here.”
Alexis? I hadn’t much liked Marielle yesterday, and I liked her even less today. She reminded me of my mother. It wasn’t only the fact that Mom had been an interior designer, but also because once you’d spent time living with a narcissist—or two, in my case—you got pretty good at spotting them. And Marielle had the trademark veneer of charm that barely hid the bitchiness lurking beneath.
Blackstone House Alexa would have snapped back with a few choice words and waited for the woman to back away, but I’d spent the intervening years learning. From the girls in the Choir, from my business partner, Janus Monroe, from Chase, from each encounter I had with the world around me.
Then, I’d been good with computers. Now, I was not only the queen of cyberspace but of cunning too.
And fucking with Marielle was about to become my new favourite game.
I forced a giggle. “Forget about it, hun. I promise I won’t take up much more of your time. I’m just explaining Nolan’s new antivirus software before I leave. And I really like what you’ve done with the place—do you have a business card? Or a website? I’m looking at buying a new property soon, and I’d love to get some inspiration.”
Nolan’s eyes widened slightly because he knew me well enough to be worried by my smile, and from my lips, “hun” was an insult. He gave his head a little shake. A warning, and one I intended to ignore. Fortunately, Marielle had no idea who she was dealing with, so she carried on, oblivious.
“I do have a website, of course.” Not for long. “Let me note down the address for you.”
She helped herself to a pen and paper from Nolan’s desk and handed me the cyber equivalent of ammunition.
“Cloud Nine Interiors?”
She beamed at me. “We design happiness.”
Somehow, I doubted that. I’d rather swan-dive into a nuclear reactor than work on a project with Marielle.
“Do you have a web store as well? I could do with buying more throw pillows.”
Was that a faint groan I detected from Nolan?
Marielle was too busy preening to notice. She seemed to be a woman fuelled by praise, much like my mother, so I knew exactly which buttons to press.
“As it happens, I do. I ship a carefully curated selection of luxury accessories anywhere in the United States.”
