Page 45 of Why Cruise

“Justice grew up poor.” Ren extended a hand, inviting me to walk in front of him. He kept close, too close, to whisper in my ear. “Like, really poor. Like, stealing-toilet-paper-from-the-locker-room poor.” His voice dropped even lower. “I used to stuff fives and tens in his pockets when he wasn’t looking, hoping he’d find them when he did laundry. Just so he’d have lunch money.”

Ren put his hand on my waist to shift me to the left when a server suddenly stepped into the aisle. His touch burned right through my dress.

“So, if Justice wants to pay for everything, it’s not about a billionaire showing off.” Ren’s fingers trailed across my back. “It’s about finally being able to take care of people. It genuinely brings him joy.”

I stopped just before we reached the table, a thought striking me. “Wait. How do you stuff money in someone’s pockets without them knowing?”

Ren’s grin was wicked, but his eyes held something deeper. He didn’t answer, just pulled out my chair.

I sat down slowly, the pieces clicking into place. Ren and Justice hadn’t just known each other. They’d been close. Really close. The kind of close where you could pick someone’s pocket in reverse.

The kind of close that left scars when it ended.

Theo

Justice had a hand on the back of my chair. I guess to indicate the one he wanted me to sit in? I scooted it closer to the table while Justice slipped the hostess a bill and leaned into her to say something private. Ren held out Mackenzie’s chair, sitting her directly across from me.

She winked and held up a hand to cover her mouth, hiding her whisper.“I have a secret.”

“What?”I soundlessly responded.

“Later.”

Justice was the last to take his seat. He looked across the table, almost surprised to see Ren there, and he took, in my opinion, an overly dramatic steadying breath.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said softly.

“Consider it a favor to me. I have a strict policy against dining with assholes.” Justice smiled brightly, but I could still feel the sharp edges of his agitation.

Mackenzie giggled. “Is that written in your company bylaws?”

“Section 3, paragraph 2.” Justice didn’t miss a beat. “Right after the dress code violation for cargo shorts.”

“What do you have against cargo shorts? Dar—"

Both Ren and Justice made a disgusted noise.

“Okay, I didn’t know shorts were a touchy subject for alphas.” Mackenzie put up her hands.

“Maybe just for these alphas.” I snorted. I was suddenly thankful I hadn’t packed my cargo shorts.

“The wine list, sir.” The sommelier held out the leather-bound menu to Justice, who waved it away without looking.

“Just bring us the Brunello,” Justice said, his eyes fixed on the menu in front of him. “The ‘15, if you have it.”

Ren leaned into me and loudly whispered, “Justice won’t tell you it’s a three hundred dollar bottle of wine, so he’s going to love it when you tell him you hate it.”

“Somewhere in your misspent youth, you got training as a sommelier?” Justice zinged back at him.

“Nope, not a wine expert, just a criminal.” Ren turned his attention to the menu.

Mackenzie giggled, “Seriously, what do you do for a living?”

“Doll, I never have and I never will lie to you.”

“So, what, you like do crime and stuff?” Mackenzie gave a little jazz hand wave.

I snorted. Ren chuckled, but it was Justice who broke into near hysterics.

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