Page 167 of Wilde and Deadly

The last time they talked, she’d been running her mouth about how she didn’t need a babysitter in Antarctica. How Rowan and Davey were overreacting.

Elliot knew that tone. Knew her.

Knew the way she deflected with humor when she didn’t want people worrying about her.

He exhaled and swiped to answer. “Rue.”

The second he answered, her face filled the screen—framed in dim hotel lighting, honey-gold hair still damp from a shower, an energy drink in her hand. She looked tired. But knowing Rue, she’d never admit it.

“Hey,” she said, too casual.

She wasn’t pacing—yet—but he could see it in the restless twitch of her fingers against the can, like she was debating something.

That alone set him on edge.

“What’s going on?”

A pause. “Rowan and Davey are nagging the hell out of me about taking an operative to Antarctica,” she admitted, her voice somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “They even had Frost back them up, which feels deeply unfair. But if I have to drag someone along, it’s going to be you.”

Elliot’s brows lifted. That, he hadn’t expected. “…Me.”

“Yes, you,” she said like it was obvious. “Problem is, your boss-slash-brother is being a real pain in the ass about it.”

“Yeah,” Elliot muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “He would.”

Davey had been treating him like a fragile glass egg ever since the poisoned pizza incident. And when he’d reminded his brother that Davey, himself, had hated being treated like that after he returned from his last deployment with more metal than bone in his leg, it had only caused a fight.

“So, talk to him!” Rue insisted. “Tell him you’re fine and want to take the job.”

“Do Iwantto take the job?”

“Of course you do. You’d get to spend three whole weeks with me!”

“In Antarctica.”

“I’mextremelygood company.”

“In Antarctica.”

“Look, I know it’s not the ideal location, but I promise to make it worth your while.”

Elliot leaned back in his chair. “That right?”

“Obviously.”

He could hear the grin in her voice before she even said the next part.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

His fingers curled around the armrest. Jesus.

She did this on purpose. Threw out lines just to watch him react, just to push that one extra inch until he gave in.

“You’ll keep me warm,” he repeated dryly.

“Well, sure. Body heat and all that.” A pause. “Are you going to make me beg? ‘Cause I don’t beg.”

I could make you beg.

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