Page 84 of Stealing Blinds

I boost myself out of the pool, wipe my hands on a towel, and while I’m still dripping all over the tiles, I grab my phone and make a call on speaker.

“Yeah?” Maddox answers, undoubtedly noting the sound of the tinkling water cascading off me. “Everything okay?”

“Not exactly. I need you to have the Magie Noire managers report to you from now on. I will no longer be overseeing the club. I’m happy to take something off your plate in return.”

“I’m good,” he assures me, grasping the root of the request. “I’m sure I’ll pawn something off on you, but it’s no trouble. I’ll send an email, letting everyone know about the change. Consider it done.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up, drop my phone, and turn back to the mystified brunette who has turned my whole world upside down. “Next objection?”

SYLVIE

Being speechless is a rarity for me. But of all the things I expected from Cash, his willingness to so easily relinquish his duties at Magie Noire was not one of them. I hadn’t planned on saying that. It just flew out of me because my head was such a mess, and insecurities I didn’t even realize I’d nurtured were rearing their ugly heads.

Maybe nothing Cash does has been expected though. Not after we got past the suave playboy facade, which was knee-weakening, but not appealing for entertaining anything beyond butterflies. But between chasing me across the US, spoiling me with personalized gifts, and showing up no matter how fucked up my life is, my first impression was far off base.

And the fact that he hasn’t slept with anyone since we met still has me in shock. I had a hard time believing it when the girls alluded to it, but his indignation about me missing the weight of his confession shouts authenticity.

The thing that’s had me undone all day though was him calling me his priceless art last night. My father had referred to my mother in similar ways, and I always dreamed of finding someone who would view me like that. It makes this all the more terrifying.

A breeze escorting the signature fragrances of New Orleans—magnolia and moss, Creole and cypress—also ushers my challenge. “You’re just going to get rid of any issues I pose?”

“Yes.” He stares at me from about twenty feet away, illuminated by the sliver of moonlight peeking through the clouds and the glimmering cityscape, framing his godlike physique—chiseled and golden and inked to perfection.

Cash really is beautiful. It’s not simply his good looks. It’s in how he moves, like whatever he’s doing, he becomes it. He swims like he belongs in the water. He struts like he rules the universe. He smiles like he holds others’ fate and joy in his quick-moving hands. No matter the game, he’s the guy with all the cards. It’s mesmerizing.

Based on how he wrecked my body with his mouth, I can only imagine how he’d destroy me with a single thrust.

But all these grand gestures have me yearning for outcomes that I shouldn’t. Not only would being with him plummet me into a morally bankrupt lifestyle—I steal art and valuables, not lives—but I’m still not sure he understands what he’s getting into. And I’ve lost so much. If I get attached here and lose him, I’m not sure I’ll ever find myself again.

“You’re going all in when you haven’t seen the hand?” In case my euphemism isn’t clear, I arch an eyebrow and tack on, “We haven’t even …”

He jumps back in the pool, swims beneath the surface, and springs up right between my legs, doing a sexy two-handed swipe over his face and hair to clear the water. Every sculpted muscle flexes with the act, somehow transforming a method of gaining clearer vision into a lewd display. “You think I can’t know what I feel here because I haven’t fucked you?”

I shrug one shoulder, keeping my focus firmly on his handsome face. “What if we don’t … click?”

It’s a real concern for me. I don’t dare imagine how many people he’s slept with, and while I’ve had my fun, I wouldn’t profess to be any type of expert. Based on my history, I’m inclined to believe I might be lacking.

When I came out here with the intent of letting him have his way with me, moving past my spiraling funk was my primary motive. But maybe I wanted to see if his desire for me had shifted because of my reaction to him killing those men. I didn’t think it through enough though. I wouldn’t consider myself fragile, but everyone reaches their breaking point eventually. If he ditches me because I don’t measure up there, I’m certain I’ll crash out.

“Not possible. The sparks between us could burn down a forest.” He glides his wet palms over my thighs, his thumbs dusting back and forth in enticement and his dimple fully committed to goading me. “And I’ve tasted your pussy, baby. I already know I’ll be addicted to being inside you. But I want more than that from you.”

“More,” I repeat, wishing I could embrace whatever that looks like to him, but snagging on another concern that dawned on me earlier. “Does Axel know what I’m stealing?”

“He has a hunch, but I don’t know the specifics.”

That could mean so many things, and it’s doubtful that any of them are good. I’m already avoiding and lying to E. I texted him about last night instead of calling and told him everything went smoothly. I should’ve informed him someone was there for me, but I don’t know how to do that without divulging Cash’s presence or his help with cleanup. And if Axel has a stake in this game, I honestly can’t see how I make it to the other side unscathed.

I exhale and peer at the starless sky. “So, this just got more complicated.”

“Not for me.” He squeezes my leg for emphasis. “You are my priority. We’ll figure the rest out.” When I shake my head, he clutches my chin, his pruney fingertips forcing my face back to him. “This is all bullshit, and you know it. Next objection?”

It is bullshit. Cash treats me like a queen and says all the right things. I want to believe him. Letting my past paralyze me or holding him prisoner to his isn’t fair to either of us.

“I’m …” It takes a beat for me to find the words because this feels like defeat. “I’m scared.”

He drops his hand, stepping back a few inches. “Of this or of me?”

My heart cracks because he referred to his father as a monster, and I can’t bear him thinking that’s what I see in him, so I reach for his face, relishing his overgrown scruff scraping against my palm. “Even when I was upset last night, I wasn’t afraid of you. I meant … I’m scared to want this.”