Page 38 of Theirs to Corrupt

Before I can protest, Link places his fingers against the small of my back. Awareness of him crashes through me, and I shudder.

Pax moves ahead of us, speaking quietly into his watch, and he opens the door.

Link tells his admin to cancel the rest of his day.

“Of course, sir.”

In the hallway, Mira detaches herself from the shadows where she’s been standing guard.

The ride down and the walk across the lobby are silent, and when we step outside into the bright Houston sunshine, the heat is like a physical force.

At the curb, the SUV is waiting, Torin behind the wheel.

Mira holds the door for the three of us, and the moment she’s securely in the passenger seat, Torin is rolling without wasting a single moment.

As we zip through the streets, I try to gather my scattered thoughts.

“Where are we going?” I ask, desperate for any distraction.

“Maestro’s,” he replies. His tone is casual, as if he’s unaware that he’s turned my entire life upside down. “Best steaks in town.”

We pull up to a restaurant with a facade of gleaming glass and polished stone.

My parents had taken me to a place like this to celebrate my sixteenth birthday. In another lifetime.

I’m the last to leave the SUV, and Link offers his hand to assist me down onto the sidewalk.

His touch is firm, and he lingers for a few seconds.

Suddenly I’m feeling anything but safe.

Mira and Torin enter the restaurant ahead of us and survey the surroundings.

As if this is an everyday occurrence, the maître d’ pays them no attention and instead greets Link. “Mr. Merritt, always a pleasure.” He nods to Pax. “Sir.”

“Gianluca.” The men shake hands. “Please meet my future bride, Tessa. We’re celebrating.”

“Incantata.Welcome, welcome! We’re delighted to have you.”

“Our usual table, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

We’re shown to a secluded table near the back of the dining room, partially hidden by an elegant partition. The decor is all dark wood and soft lighting.

As I take a seat in the chair that Link holds for me, I shift uncomfortably. The elegance of the place makes me hyperaware of my jeans and well-worn tennis shoes.

Unfortunately for me, I’m Cinderella. My fairy godmother showed up with two princes and a carriage. But there’s not a single gown in sight.

As he always does, Pax selects the chair where he will have his back to the wall. And I notice Torin at a nearby table, all by himself.

Almost instantly, a server appears, a bottle of sparkling water already in hand. “Mr. Merritt, so good to see you again. Pellegrino for the table?”

“Thank you, yes.”

As the water is poured, Gianluca arrives once more, along with a bartender. They’re carrying a tall, silver ice bucket and a bottle of champagne that he shows to Link.

“Compliments of the house, Mr. Merritt,” Gianluca says. “If the vintage meets with your approval.”

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