He’d said it like it was a flaw. Like she was a problem he didn’t know how to solve.
But he’d also said it like it was a wonder. Like she was a marvel he couldn’t quite believe existed.
Junie had spent her whole life being too much. Too loud, too chaotic, too unwilling to fit into the boxes other people built for her. She’d learned to make it a joke, a performance, armor people laughed at instead of with.
But Leo didn’t laugh. Leo looked at her like she was a puzzle he wanted to spend years solving. Like her impossibility was the most interesting thing about her.
I’m in trouble.He’s going to break my heart.
But as she gathered the scattered papers and headed back to her room—past his door, where she could hear the sounds of someone definitely not sleeping—she wasn’t sure she cared.
Some cliffs were worth jumping off.
Even if you didn’t know where you’d land.
Glimmer coiled around her wrist, scales pulsing amber. The snake butted her head against Junie’s palm, and Junie sensed approval—or maybe resignation.
“Yeah,” Junie murmured to her familiar. “I know. I’m in trouble.”
Glimmer’s tongue flickered.Obviously, her expression seemed to say.
But maybe that’s not entirely bad.
The next morning,a cup of coffee sat outside her door. Black. Strong.
Junie smiled.
She left a pastry outside his—one of Dahlia’s honey-glazed croissants, still fresh from the kitchen, wrapped in a napkin she’d stolen from the breakfast room.
Neither of them mentioned it at breakfast. But when their eyes met across the table, understanding passed between them.An acknowledgment. A promise. A question that neither was ready to answer out loud.
This thing between them—undeniable, terrifying, inevitable—wasn’t going away.
And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.
At least, that’s what Junie told herself as she watched Leo read his reports and drink his coffee and pretend he wasn’t sneaking glances at her every thirty seconds.
She was probably lying to herself. That was, after all, another of her signature moves.
But for the first time in a long time, the lie felt hopeful.
SEVENTEEN
LEO
Leo stared at his phone for eleven minutes before making the call.
The number for La Côte d’Azur was saved in his contacts—had been for years. He’d dined there a dozen times, impressing clients and sealing deals over architectural appetizers and wines that cost more than most people’s monthly rent. The maître d’ knew him by name. The chef had once created a tasting menu in his honor.
It was exactly the establishment where a man took a woman when he wanted to do things properly.
If you’re going to pursue her, the lion inside him rumbled,at least commit to it.
Leo wasn’t pursuing anyone. He was simply… making a strategic decision. The past two weeks of fighting this pull toward Junie Reed had accomplished nothing except sleep deprivation, an inability to focus on the investigation, and an increasingly vocal animal half who had zero patience for Leo’s denial.
He was a strategist. He knew when a position was indefensible.
“La Côte d’Azur, how may I assist you?”
