Page 116 of Unlock My Heart

“Arrogant.”

“Guilty.”

I jerk my hand away from his, and grateful for the excuse to ignore the man, I gather my bobbins and pins and continue weaving the pattern.

Takeoff is smooth, and soon we’re in the air. “Stop watching me.” My eyes remain on the lace, all the while I can feel Fabien’s eyes on me.

“I’ve never understood how you do that,” he comments.

“It’s like a puzzle: lifting one bobbin over its neighbor and putting it down, placing the pins. Four bobbins together make the stitch.” I demonstrate, placing each pin and tightening the thread in the process—a tip I learned from Miss Gail.

“You make it look easy.”

“Hardly. Now Miss Gail made it look easy.” I smile sadly.

“You miss her.”

If I’m being honest, I haven’t allowed myself to miss her, or anyone, but I remain silent.

“I’ll track down the rest of your bobbins.”

Refusing to look at him, I say, “You think finding those bobbins will magically stitch us back together?”

His arm extends over my seat, his fingers grazing the strands of hair that have escaped my bun. “Can’t hurt.”

I jerk my head away from his reach, and he chuckles softly.

There’s a buzzing, and Fabien retrieves his cell, answering on speakerphone. “Little sis, I’m so glad to hear from you. Sienna’s with me⁠—”

“You and Sienna got married, and you didn’t tell me?” Alessandra shrieks. “Hi, Sienna.”

“Hi, Alessandra,” I call to her with a smile.

“Been kind of busy with getting out of prison and the whole Kirksey thing,” Fabien explains, and my ears prick up.

“Don’t get me started on that.” Alessandra groans. “I’m grounded for life, according to Angelo.”

“As you should be. You had no business coming to the hotel.”

Ah, so the Kirksey “fiasco” happened at the hotel. Good to know.

“Not you too,” she bemoans.

“Sienna and I are hosting a wedding reception at our home tomorrow night,” Fabien tells her.

“No, we’re not,” I interject.

“Yes, we are,” Fabien informs me. “Al, bring our boring ass brother and his girlfriend with you. Eight o’clock.”

Angelo, Remi, and I in the same room. This ought to be fun.

“So does that mean you and Angelo have settled your beef?” Alessandra presses.

“It’s being settled.”

“Why can neither of you give me a straight answer?” Alessandra cries.

“Calvani men seem to have that problem,” I mutter under my breath.