Page 67 of Wilde and Deadly

Sabin made a low, long-suffering noise and shut the door, leaning against it. He dragged a hand over his face. “Mais, really? We gotta do this again?”

Rowan glanced back and forth from Dom to Vivi and could all but see the tension like lightning crackling in the air between them. Oh, yeah, there was a story there, and it didn’t seem to have ended happily. Dom’s jaw was tight, teeth grinding like he was chewing glass, while Vivi’s eyes burned with the kind of heat that could set the whole room on fire.

Finally, Rowan took pity and stepped between them. She waved a hand in front of Dom’s face, breaking their staring contest. “Davey sent you to…?”

He blinked, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. “Right. Uh, he sent me to make sure everything’s set for tonight. Security details, comms, all that Elliot-type stuff since Elliot’s still at the safe house guarding your friend.”

“Benji's not really a friend. More like a necessary but annoying pest.”

His grin appeared briefly, and he pulled out his tablet, tapping the screen. “We’ve got a three-hour window to?—”

“Excuse me,” Vivi said sweetly, flipping her hair over one shoulder and plastering on a too-bright smile. “Rowan is busy right now.”

Dom’s grin evaporated, leaving behind an expression of frustration and a hint of fatigue. “We have to go over this stuff, Viv.”

“Then you’re welcome to wait. She’s mine for at least the next hour.” With that, she turned her back on him and ushered Rowan toward the bedroom. “All right, darling, let’s get to work.”

“Wait,hour?” If she weren’t so horrified, she’d be embarrassed by the squeak of panic in her voice.

“Oh, at least.”

Rowan eyed the array of dresses with a mix of trepidation and curiosity as Sabin brought them into the bedroom and Vivi hung them up, creating a colorful parade of fabric along the closet rod.

She sighed, accepting her fate. “Fine. Do your worst.”

“Oh, honey, I plan to do my best.” Vivi worked fast, throwing gowns at her with the expertise of someone who had dressed models, celebrities, and royalty. Rowan found herself stepping into silk, lace, satin—turning, assessing, rejecting.

The first dress was too stiff, too glittering. The second clung in all the wrong places. The third was too revealing; the fourth made her feel like a Victorian ghost.

Vivi was ruthless in her assessments, tossing rejected dresses aside as Rowan tried them on.

And then, as Rowan zipped up the fifth dress, Vivi’s voice turned sly.

“So,chérie,Sabin told me you and Davey…”

Rowan stilled. She turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “Sabin told youwhatexactly?”

“Oh, just that you two have been dancing around each other for months. That there’s enough sexual tension between you to power a small city. And that you finally gave in to it.”

Rowan shot a glare toward the closed bedroom door and called, “My love life is not your personal soap opera, Sabin!”

“Ah,cher, but it’s so much fun!” he called back.

“Stop gossiping about me, or the next time you wake up, it’ll be to the sound of me sharpening my knives very close to a body part you value.”

He poked his head into the room and grinned, unfazed by her threat. “Sounds kinky. I’ll try anything once, but does Davey know you’re into that?”

“Want me to demonstrate my considerable knife skills now? I can take one ball, two, or the whole package. Your choice.”

He winced. “You’d really deprive womankind of my talents? That would be a crime against humanity,cher.”

Vivi rolled her eyes and pointed. “Out.”

He studied the midnight-blue dress. “That’s not the one.”

“I know. Now, shoo, you menace, so she can change.”

He retreated, chuckling, and Vivi turned back to Rowan with a gleam in her eye. “So, it’s true then? You and Davey?”

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