No flirting. With me or anyone else.
I am in control.
Maybe she couldn’t bear to see my face when I hit rule number two. Maybe she’d blush. Or bite her lip.
But she’d thought about it. She’d imagined me. Heard me. Felt me. Tasted me.
She’d made rules. Which meant she was already breaking them in her head. It was only a matter of time.
In the hospital, I’d caught her mind wandering, and I’d questioned what she was thinking. We’d nearly kissed in the medical bay.Again.
I’d thought she was having second thoughts. Turns out, she was just mentally writing rules about how not to fall for me.
On the flight, sitting beside her, I considered everything I could do with her hateful note.
I would frame it. I’d share the list with our kids. Omitting number two, of course. Maybe I’d photocopy it. I’d frame the clean version and keep the original in my wallet.Forever.
Fia Bacque was finally on my page. Falling, just as recklessly as I was.
Falling didn’t feel like the right word. It was more like flying — exhilarating. And as much as I had no control over my feelings anymore, it was in the best way possible.
One thing I did have control over?The itinerary.
She was going back to England for her Dad’s birthday next Monday, so I had approximately seven nights with her.
It was no skin off my back. Planning it all felt like a relief—finally getting the ideas out of my head.
When I told her I’d arrange everything in the hospital, she mumbled, asking if I could tell her sister too. But if anyone scared me, it was Everly Bacque because she was probably the one person who could make Fia reconsider me.
Through security, the flight, and the taxi ride to my house, Fia stayed quiet, typing savagely on her phone, throwing sighs and huffs.
I didn’t pry, just cocked my head and raised my brows.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “My sister.”
But her annoyance shifted to panic when she looked around as we pulled up at my home. Her neck almost snapped with how quickly her head rotated, trying to take it all in.
“Is anyone else here?”
I shook my head. “No. I asked my housekeeper, Anna, to stay in her building.”
“She has a whole building?”
“Of course. I’m not a monster.”
She blinked with a shocked ghost of laughter, and I gestured for her to stay put before running to her side of the car and opening her door for her.
Laughter louder now, she kept her head down as she took my hand and stepped out. I squeezed her fingers.
“I think I’m going to add another rule,” she said, still smiling. “No gentlemanly gestures. No touching.”
