"No. No second thoughts."
His smile was worth every moment of uncertainty.
"Good. Because these rings were expensive, and I'm pretty sure that store has a strict no-returns policy."
I laughed—real, genuine, the kind of laugh that made me believe we might actually survive this.
"Well, when you put it that way..."
He pulled me closer, right there on the street, and kissed me. Not performatively, not for show. Just because.
When we broke apart, I was breathless.
"What was that for?" I asked.
"Practicing being married."
"You're such a romantic."
"You married me yesterday. Clearly you like it."
Yeah,I thought, looking at the rings on our hands,I really do.
∞∞∞
We made it back to the office by eight-thirty. No sign of Silvio, but Serenity was there. Along with Stone. "I've got tight security for Silvio's visit. We're ready."
"Good," Quentin said. "Let's head into my office."
"Can I see it?" Serenity asked. I held up my hand—both rings now, the engagement-style diamond and the wedding bandnested together—and Serenity gasped. "It's beautiful. They're beautiful."
She didn't touch my fingers, and I was grateful, since she'd probably pick up how terrified I was. The worry that Carlo would kill Quentin on sight seemed to settle in my chest. He wouldn't do that, right? Not in a restaurant in front of witnesses?
Last night over dinner, we'd decided to make sure Serenity got a chance to shake Silvio's hand. I hoped she picked up enough to let us know if he'd orchestrated my father's hit. It would also come in handy to know if he was planning anything at our meeting. Like killing me or Quentin.
Twenty-three minutes later—Silvio was always precise—there was a knock.
My stomach attempted to leave my body through my throat.
Stone opened the door. "Silvio. Come in."
My cousin stepped inside, and I watched him do the thing he always did: scan the room, catalog exits, assess threats. Professional paranoia wrapped in an expensive suit.
His eyes landed on me first. Then Quentin. Then Serenity.
The suspicion was immediate and obvious.
"Jules." He crossed to me, kissed both cheeks. Traditional. Familiar. Making me feel disloyal.
Quentin stepped forward, extending his hand. "Silvio."
They shook. Brief. Professional. Two men who didn't trust each other pretending civility.
"This is Serenity Wells," I gestured to her. "She's one of Quentin's business partners. Helping with some project coordination."
Silvio's eyes narrowed immediately. "The psychic."
It wasn't a question.
