Page 222 of Remy

“Did you enjoy dinner with your dad?” he asks.

I nod. “He’s in good spirits.” I take one more deep breath of his deliciousness then lean back to meet his eyes. “What are you here to discuss?”

“Nothing. I’m only making a quick trip to drop something off.”

I raise a brow, glancing down to his arms that are filled with a whole heap of me and nothing else. “Did you forget to bring it?”

He squeezes me. “Do I look like the careless type?”

“No, but it’d be nice if thoughts of seeing me again had even the slightest capacity to distract you into forgetting your purpose.”

“You distract me more than enough.” He retreats, his arms falling to his sides. “Did he convince you to go out?”

“Why am I still surprised that he tells you more than me? That man is like a strategic mastermind, and you’re his little co-conspirator.”

“I prefer partner-in-crime.” He winks and maneuvers around me to take the first step. “I’d better let you go and get ready. I’ll see you later.”

“You will?” My heart threatens to explode.

He smirks at me over his shoulder. “I suddenly feel like a night out.”

“Should I expect another painfully underwhelming reunion like this one?”

“I’ve waited all week to see you. I promise there’s nothing underwhelming about what I plan to do once we’re no longer standing under the full view of your father’s window.”

Heat filters through my chest, the deliciousness spreading to parts down south.

“Convince your friends to go to my club.” He continues up the stairs. “Your names are already on the VIP list.”

“What a gentleman,” I coo.

His smirk increases. “I promise I won’t be later.”

Holy hell.

Damn every single perfect, pretentious inch of him.

I’ve fallen for this man. Head over heels. Heart over mind.

“Goodbye, Remy.” I force my smile under control as I rush across the parking lot.

“Bye, Pyro.”

He stares down at me from the top landing as I climb into my car, his wicked grin stalking me until I accelerate out of view.

I’ve never driven so fast through the Baltimore suburbs in my life. Last weekend did a number on me. I’ve also never showered, shaved, and scrubbed my body all at the same time.

I’m in the middle of simultaneously applying ruby red lipstick to match my silken slip dress while yanking on my stiletto heels when a car horn beeps from my drive.

“Shit.” I slide a hand over the way-too-short hem that sits higher up my thighs than commonsense demands while inwardly cursing myself for dressing in something to impress Remy as I hop toward the front door, my other hand trying to secure the strap of my shoe around my ankle.

“Look at you.” Ivy wolf whistles from the open back window of the ride share. “Someone’s getting eaten tonight.”

Oh, my fucking god.

I shrink with embarrassment, knowing Lesley’s super spy senses would’ve overheard as I finally secure my shoe strap.

I glare at the car with my approach, mouthing, “I’ll kill you” to my best friend.

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