Jimmy shrugs. “Maybe? What do I tell her?”

“Ask her if she’s open to new opportunities and see what she says.”

Taking a step back, Jimmy crosses her arms over her chest and regards me with her cool indifference. “You got Damien to agree to expand the house, didn’t you?”

I smile at her. “You know I always get what I want.”

“Mmm. Sometimes at the expense of everything else.”

“Set it up.” I start to walk away.

“I’m not your assistant,” she says.

I stop and give her my most innocent smile. “Please, Jimmy? My dearest, oldest, best friend? Will you set up a meeting with Bianca?”

She rolls her eyes and her earrings swing from her ears. “Fine. But we’re getting you an assistant. I don’t have time to do your errands.”

“I don’t want an assistant,” I call over my shoulder.

“Too bad!”

Mouse has her eyes closed and she’s slouched in one of the chairs at an empty table.

I hit the button again and her eyes pop open.

I disappear into the crowd.

She looks for me and when she doesn’t find me, she bolts from the room again.

Naughty little mouse.

I’m not sure if she’s running from me or trying to provoke me into chasing her again.

Either way, it doesn’t really matter.

I love the hunt.

I love the sound of her rapid heartbeat and the blood rushing through her veins.

She won’t get far.

Little mice never do.

I catch her halfway between the ballroom and the French doors that lead to the courtyard.

It’s easy to wind my arm around her waist and haul her into the nearest office.

She’s breathless, forehead a little clammy, heart rate accelerated.

I spin her and press her against the closed door.

“Bran,” she moans and fuck if I’m not hard all over again.

My name on her lips is a sin I will not repent.

Iron sconces are lit in the office and the soft light burnishes Mouse in gold.

She is a dream.