Holly’s grin spread. “Then I shall return the sentiment when you come visit The Bloom Room.”
Calliope inclined her head. Maybe her dream would come true sooner than she had imagined. “I look forward to the opening.”
Holly tucked her package under her arm. “Then I shall see you again soon.” Calliope laughed again when Holly waved enthusiastically before hurrying off.
Prince stretched out his legs, not a care in the world, and Calliope lowered onto the stool.
Maxen Fury.
She hadn’t dared to say his name aloud. Not even to herself. Even his name had a dark-prince sense curling around each vowel. She didn’t trust him. Not even a little. And yet, her pulse hadn’t gotten the notice.
If she were clever—and she’d like to imagine she was—she would turn her attention elsewhere. To her dismay, the part of her, the very part that had learned to survive by making herself small, the very part that hated the way he made her feelseen, exposed—that part leaned in.
And stars, why didn’t that feel absolutely petrifying?
*
Maxen sat ata table inFury’s, a glass in his hand and a mood fouler than Brighton’s shoreline fog. Behind the bar, Knight kept his post, his body half-lost to shadow, while Maxen replayed the afternoon in his mind. He’d followed Peregrine after he’d deposited Calliope at her shop only to be led on a merry route of pompousness. A hatmaker. A tailor. A stroll on the beach. It was as if the man knew he was being followed and had toyed with him.
He ground his teeth.
Annoying blackguard.
Dagger slumped into a chair at his table, hooked another one close and flung his boots up on it. “That woman—”
“You leased her the place behind my back,” Maxen stopped him.
“I leased it to the bird, yes, but I didn’t expect you to take such interest. Dangerous interest.”
“And why is that?”
“She’s a woman. A liability. We have enemies from all seven corners of Britain. If she turns out to be no threat, you risk placing her in danger.”
Maxen turned his attention to his brandy. “Seven corners, you say.”
“How ever many there are.”
“She’s certainly something,” Reaper chimed as he sauntered over, plucking a bottle from behind the bar and popping the cork with his teeth. “At least when I’m not tailing our noble Prince of Brighton.Who knew you were such a brooder,frère? Oh, right, we all knew. But such focus. Such dedication.”
Maxen tossed back half the liquor in his glass. “Why are you speaking?”
Reaper gave a mock gasp. “To deliver the heartfelt concerns of your loving brothers, obviously.”
Maxen drained his glass.
Dagger leaned over, tapping against the bar with his finger. “You’re distracted. We can’t have you distracted.”
“I’m alert.”
“You’re acting strange,” Reaper pointed out.
“I am acting in the interest of our business.”
Dagger crossed his arms. “You never get this involved with marks.”
“She’s my tenant, and you’re bloody annoying.”
Reaper chuckled. “We’re always annoying.”
